#this was the first thing that went through my head and I have no idea why!

[imsofreakingtired]

I am so so so so sorry if this is too close to nsfw (in my head it's very fluff/comfort but I apologise if it makes you uncomfortable bc I'm not sure), but thinking about Sevika w/ a partner who's been pressured by their ex's into doing things like sexually and her just reassuring them that like no baby I wanna hold you what r you talking ab I've been here all of 15 seconds I'm not tryna fuck calm down

And her partner who is so so surprised wdym ??? You just wanna spoon me isn't this the part where you grope my chest and Sevika is like BABY NO

I don't know I'm using her to cope this is so self indulgent I just wanna hear your thoughts on it

i love this idea, thank you for the request anon...and shitt this one was so personally relatable to me 😔

things i wanna say to you

content warning(s): mentions of trauma from past relationships, angst, hurt/comfort

"there's things i wanna say to you, but i'll just let you live like if you hold me without hurting me you'll be the first who ever did."

~~~

“Your beauty…it’s a blessing.”

It’s a sentence that returns and returns to you. It’s a truth you hold in your hands, or wear on your shoulders like a mantle you can’t take off. You have heard it, in one form or another, from the lips of lover to lover. They whispered it to you in the heat of sex, like a special confession only for you, and then vanished like a vapor. 

Your body is like a hotel, you think—a pretty room that people pass through and love only in the moment. When was the last time you were held without the other person’s hands hungrily seeking your breasts? When was the last time you were kissed without their hands roaming your body like an impatient, starved animal? 

Once, you had worked up the courage to confront them. You told them, “hands off.” You don’t exactly remember how the conversation went. But you know that it ended in them laughing in your face, suggesting you work at Babette’s if you wanted compensation for your body. 

When they were gone, you stood in the silent room and wondered if they were right. You wondered if it was your fault. If your body was the only good thing, the only worthy thing about you. If you were nothing more than a pretty face and a blank canvas waiting to be ruined. If you were asking too much when you asked for even just a shadow of respect. 

You stopped speaking after that. 

~~~

Shortly after you began to work for Silco as his record scribe, you met his henchwoman, Sevika. Immediately you knew she was different. She didn’t look at you the way others did—in fact, she barely looked at you at all. When she spoke to you she looked down at you over her hooked nose, her handsome, perfect nose, in a way that made you feel both insignificant and the only woman in the entire world. She didn’t give you flattery about your appearance, spoke bluntly when you made mistakes. 

Still you caught her staring at you from time to time when she thought you were too immersed in work to notice. But her face betrayed nothing. Her brows were always drawn together as if everything in the world annoyed her. You assumed she was only scrutinizing the way you worked. You wondered if Silco had ordered her to monitor you, assess your performance. You worked harder as a result, feeling oddly gratified to be watched for a reason other than your appearance. 

So one could imagine your shock when Sevika strode up to your desk one morning and said, “get your coat. Walk with me.” 

From that day on, you were hers. 

~~~

The first night you moved into her apartment had been a hard day at work. You had been at the desk all day without a single break, trying frantically to keep up with the endless flow of Shimmer shipment records and orders. Sevika had been on her feet from dawn to dusk—you hadn’t seen her for two consecutive minutes even though you worked in the same building. 

The night had deepened, the sky outside dusted with faint stars. You were undressing for bed. If you were tired, how exhausted must Sevika be? You paused in front of the mirror before you slipped the nightshirt over your body. Maybe she would want to let off some steam. Maybe she expected it from you. Hesitantly, you put the nightshirt on. You didn’t want to, but you felt like you owed it to her. Like she deserved it.

Sevika came in, her mechanical arm detached and water glistening on her face from a quick wash. She smiled slightly when she saw you waiting on the bed. “There’s my girl. C’mere.”

She sank into the bed you now shared with her, and obediently you crawled over and folded yourself into her embrace. Her right arm curled around you protectively. Her warmth, her strength, the tautness of her muscles against your skin. It was heavenly. 

She sighed into your neck, and it made you shiver slightly. The question tiptoed to the end of your tongue: can we…can we maybe just stay like this? 

But you feared she would say no. You feared she would be mad. And leave you. 

You waited for her to make the next move, to start pulling the shirt over your head, or turn you around so she could grope between your legs. When several seconds passed and she did nothing, you realized that maybe she was waiting for you. 

Reluctantly, you pulled yourself away and began to take off your shirt. 

Sevika sat up, confused. “What are you doing?”

You freeze in your movements. Your shirt falls back down over your chest. “I—you don’t want to…?”

She shook her head, lips curling in a bemused smile. “Baby, relax. I’ve been here fifteen seconds.”

Slowly, you returned to her, and she pulled you close once more. Sevika felt the shudder of relief that went through your body. Though you didn’t see it, her face creased with concern. She had noticed the apprehension in your eyes, nearly bordering on fear. And she made a mental note to herself to find whatever fucker had hurt you and made you so scared. 

~~~

[dcxdpdabbles]

#holiday request Hi, I love your writing! Could you please update either "Danny's grill", "Congratulations! It's Triplets!" or "Phantom's number 1 fan"? Please and thank you

Jason is once again reviewing the map of potential areas Alvin could have been operating in when his burner phone rings. He snatches it up before it can pass the fourth ring, pressing it gently against his ear.

He offers no greeting. It's a tactic he uses to ensure that whoever is calling him has permission to do so. If someone attempts to conform his informants' and allies connection with him, Jason is not about to give them away by speaking first.

"Hey Boss," Honeycomb's voice filters through, edged by that familiar overdramatic southern draw she did when working. Apparently, the clients like listening to her use her accent. "I got eyes on that doll you've been searching for."

Jason sits up straighter. "Where and when?"

Honeycomb is one of the working girls who's been with him since his return to Gotham. She was the first to sign up for his protection, long before he did the whole heads in a duffle bag thing, and was one of his best eyes and ears on the street in exchange.

He didn't know her real name or age- but he was sure she wasn't underage. He made it clear he wouldn't allow it. All Jason knew about Honeycomb was that she had run away from her home in the southern states with nothing but her pretty face, blond curls, hazel eyes, and the clothes on her back.

She was feisty and could charm her way out of most problems with her silver tongue. Her manipulation of her clients was almost an art form, and she could get any information out of anyone with a well-placed hand on the air and a sweet little "darling" on her grubby lips. He often thought she would have been a lawyer if life had been fair to her.

"Just now, on Ruby Street. He was with a man in his late teenage to early twenties. About six feet five inches, black hair, blue eyes, and Caucasian. Alvin was wearing black tights and a red hoodie. The man is in jeans and a white zip-up." Honeycomb rattles in one smooth report, the huskiness of her accent making her articulation more pleasant to the ear. "Seems they were doing a photo shoot."

Jason is already moving towards his bike, switching her call to his helmet. His stomach turns slightly as he grunts, "What kind of photoshoot?"

"Not that kind, Darling. Seemed more like a scavenger hunt, according to Alvin. They are finding specific landscapes and making posses that are answers to some riddles." Honeycomb responds. Distantly, her heels clicking against the concrete echo a little louder, letting Jason know she has wandered into an alley. "I approached Alvin when the man with him went up a fire escape to take a picture with a gargoyle. I offered him my service to him as a cover. Once he confirmed his name was Alvin and he was already with a client, I left before he could get the idea I was attempting to steal his work."

"Good job." Jason boots up his bike, flying out of his hideout without hesitation. He was still twenty minutes away from Ruby Street, but if the pair was going to be a moment, he could close the distance between them and find a trail to follow once on scene.

He questions as he flies through two lanes, ignoring the honking of angry divers. "How did Alvin look? He's supposed to be with one of my contacts, so if he's with someone, it might be a John roughing him up."

I'll deal with Victorian later. He mentally swears How dare he not tell me, Alvin went back to the field after hiding out for so long without a ounce of protection.

"The sweetheart doesn't seem hurt, but I can tell his client is one of those problematic kinds." Honeycombs sighs, the edges of unease slipping into her voice. "He looks at Alvin like he's in love."

Shit. It's never suitable for working folks to meet someone who "loves" them. Nine out of ten times, it was just a wacko who became violent the moment the prostitute so much as hinted that this was only a job to them. Jason had pulled out three women's bodies from the Brown River the last time one of those clients fell in love.

Jason pressed harder on the accelerator. "Are they still there?"

Honeycomb hums "The John is on the roof now, but Alvin is waiting for him under the street pole-Oh shit!"

Jason nearly slams into a nearby car at her sudden yell. "What happened?"

She doesn't answer, but he can pick up the sound of her running and her fast breathing. He knows she is getting out of danger because if there is one thing Honeycomb is as a person, she's a survivor. He wants answers but would rather she focus on getting herself safe first.

He meanwhile, concentrates on the phone calls and the vehicles he's flying between.

It's a few minutes before she gasps. "Sorry, Darling, I had to run. Batman was on the roof with the John."

What.

"Batman just appeared out of nowhere and threw a bucket of mud at the john. Alvin didn't seem to notice, but I did. Batman made eye contact with me, so I ran." She concludes, pushing through her uneven breathing. "I have to go, Darling. Hideout before the Bats lock me up."

"That's alright. Stay safe." Jason tells her, taking a turn sharply as she hangs up the call without another word. The second she does, he double-taps his helmet to connect to the Bat communications.

"Barbie. I need to know what B is up to now."

_________________________________________________________

Bruce watches the Fae shake the mud out of his face after he has scrambled down the fire escape. Tim was at his side in a second, using a handkerchief to gently clean up the Fae's face.

There were a lot of whispered words, but based on what Bruce could pick up from lip reading, Tim had no idea he was up here. He just assumed the Fae got caught up in a juvenile prank.

Oddly enough, that was primarily due to the Fae covering for Bruce.

It was rather disappointing the repealing spell hadn't worked, but the Justice League Dark the mixture of John's Wort, primroses, and marsh marigolds mushed together with water socked in iron during the full moon should have made it possible to force the contact with Tim to break down.

Of course, this had been a desperate attempt, seeing as all the JL Dark had been unsure which method was best when he asked how to get a Fae to leave a human alone.

A lot of debate went into finding a solution, but in the end, Bruce had chosen a mixture repellent. He had even decided to use some holy water and trough in blessed soil and blessed iron just to make it extra powerful.

The magic users had all assured him it would work as long as it touched the Fae skin while Bruce chanted Tim's full legal name. It had felt rather ridiculous dragging a bucket half the size of himself through the city, trying to spot where Tim and his companion were, and even more so when he had sprinted across the rooftop screaming.

"Timothy Jackson Drake! Timothy Jackson Drake! Timothy Jackson Drake!"

The Fae had been in the middle of taking a photo. He set up his camera on a little tripod and, after pressing the time, had run to face the city- back facing Bruce- raising his arms to form a triangle above his head. Based on fact the camera was slightly lower then the Fae's torso, Bruce could deduct her was attempting to capture himself making the triangle top of one of the most iconic buildings in Gotham.

Spear tower.

He waited only long enough for the flash to go off, so by the time the Fae turned around, he had a face full of mud.

It splat all over his front, covering every inch of what should have set Tim free. The silence followed was louder than anything Bruce had ever heard, even as the Fae calmly picked up his camera and scurried to the ground.

Bruce let him go, wondering why he had failed. Thankfully, it seemed Tim and the Fae were getting back in their car- not the food truck for some reason- and were driving away.

Tonight, Bruce would find its lair and get his son home because letting him take a relaxing vacation was alarming to the rest of his children.

He rushed to the Batmobile, climbing into the driver seat and taking off after the pair. As he was driving, he could have sworn Jason just passed by him, moving like the devil was after him.

Bruce wondered briefly if he should check in on his third oldest but thought better of it when he noticed Cass, Dick, and Duke driving right behind Jason on their own bikes. His children had each other backs.

A few hours later, Bruce stood before a large empty field. He had watched the Fae drive into it and vanish from sight. None of his machines could pick up any hint on where they might have gone, but he was reasonably sure there wasn't any teleportation involved.

Sometimes teleportation left some traces in the airwaves. It's how Bruce could track people using the boom tub or find the Flash whenever Barry went on a craze.

Bruce was thinking that this was the Fae's court and his magical home was being protected by supernatural means. He just had to figure out how to get in and Tim out.

As he was considering the field, a soft, distant roar made him reach for his weapons. He turns one hand poise for a throw, his trusted batarangs in between his fingers, only to become surprised when he recognizes the vehicles driving towards him.

It was his spare Batmobile and four bird-themed motorbikes. His children.

"B?" Dick questions after spinning to a stop and sliding right in front of Bruce. He lowers his window, looking at him with apparent confusion despite the Nightwing mask blocking his eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"Following a lead on the Fae. What are you doing here?" Bruce asks, lowering his arm but keeping his weapon. He could never be too sure this isn't a trick.

"Following a lead on Tim." Dick responds, stepping out of his car. Two other doors open, and out steps Steph and Damian, both looking posed for a fight. Of all his children, those two tend to be the most territorial and have not taken to Tim being a semi-held hostage well. "Oracle was able to track him through the city cameras after he popped up taking photos."

"hmm"

Jason jogged over to them with Cass not far behind. "Wait,, you got a lead on your cases too? We would check in on Victorian and see if he knew anything about Alvin."

He gestures to those behind him, indicating Cass and Duke, but the daytime hero is not paying attention. Duke was staring at the field, mouth slightly open as if in awe. Bruce straightens once he realizes Duke can probably see or at least detect the magical castle.

"Victorian?" Damian asks, crossing his arms. "Who is that?"

"The owner of the giant mansion we're standing in front of. He's one of my contacts."

"Ugh, not to make you feel crazy, Hoodie," Steph speaks up, placing a hand on the crook of her hip and waving her hand to the field. "But there is literally nothing there

"What are you talking about. This place is bigger than Wayne Manor."

Bruce heard about this. Guests who have been here before or have permission to enter can see glimpses of the Otherworld that Fae deals in. However, it is surprising to know Jason has already been in contact with the Fae before and has not been kept.

Did that throw a wrench in his theory of Tim and Alvin being the same person? Why would the Fae ask Jason to find Tim if he was in the creature's home?

Before anyone could say anything else, a giant gate entrance suddenly manifested mere feet from where Bruce stood. A soft creek was heard as it was thrown open, and a glowing woman in an old mail outfit floated just a foot off the ground on the other side. She eyed them all in an eerie, emotionless face before bending her own into a low bow. "Welcome. My King wishes to invite you in."

Well, that's not ominous at all.

His children shared a look between them, silently letting each other know to be cautious as they followed the floating woman. She led them down an impressive driveway that slowly gave way to a massive mansion.

Bruce fought to keep the surprise off his face. Jason was right. This place was more prominent and grander than his manor. It didn't just scream wealth. It screamed nobility; it screamed royalty.

The group walked into the main hall, some muttering thanks to the bowing woman who opened the doors. "Of course. The King stated that his home would always be open to Master Alvin's kin."

She vanished from sight like mist fading away as soon as they crossed the doorway.

Bruce's eyes instantly landed on the figure standing atop the grand stairs. Tim was gawking at them, wearing nothing but a long, seductive black robe with fluffy collars and wrists. The front of the rob was open, displaying a large amount of chest and thigh, but keeping the significant bits out of sight.

Thankfully.

His skin was glowing, his hair tussled stylishly, and a dozen red roses were in his hands. Tim looked like he was planning a romantic evening in his get-up.

"Oh," He said dumbly. "You're not Danny."

"What the fuck is going on" Jason demanded after a long period of silence.

"Um...I was planning on seducing my friend. What are you all doing?"

"Regretting waking up this morning," Damian demands, pressing a hand over his eyes. "Please get decent. My nightmares are horrid enough."

Bruce nods. "You were Alvin Draper and are romantically involved with the Fae. He seems to be treating you well. That's good."

All of his children stared at him for a long moment before the hall erupted with displeased noises. Bruce was taken aback.

Did none of them know any of this? It seemed obvious to him.

[gardenofnoah]

i pulled you from the sea to hear you howl

note: i wrote this as a love letter to myself, because things are hard and i needed something soft. i hope this silly little story is a warm hug to you, too. <3 wc: no idea, i wrote this in drafts. my guess is around 8k tags: bakugou x reader, soulmate au (mild fantasy? idk), no quirk (bkg is a firefighter/first responder, reader is a baker), fated strangers to lovers, mentions of drinking (not unhealthily), meddling friends (cute though), sappy romance, smut (mdni)

Once, when you were five, the wind slipped in through the crack of your bedroom window. It whispered through the linen fibers of the thin drapes, a friendly ghost taking shape under a sheet. There, by the sea, the nightly breeze was as expected as the rise of the sun each morning. But on this night, the cool, coastal air brushed over your body with a murmur of something different—a gentle beckoning toward an embrace both ancient and yet known to you somehow.

Pulled into the dreamland with the brine of the ocean on your lips, the air was a warm quilt over your shoulders, shimmering with the hum of crickets and tree frogs hidden by the dark of night. You found yourself in a clearing, illuminated by the shining face of the moon, larger than life and swelled to its peak above your head. So opposite was this dense wood—absent was the marshy swell of the sea, the crunch of saturated sand beneath your feet—but you felt no fear. You’d no reason to know this place and yet it was a welcoming back—not home but older than that, like the marrow in your bones from your greatest grandmother.

Each step forward was a whisper to the webs of roots and mycelium twisting deep into the dirt below you, each one echoed back to you in taps against the soles of your feet. It propelled you forward, your tiny feet stomping with gusto as a backtrack to the sounds of your giggles, this conversation with the earth that only you and She were privy to.

You reached the perimeter of the clearing and pushed forward still, thick brambles of the wood curving outward, welcoming you in and clearing a path of stardust, iridescent in the moonlight. Deeper into the forest you went, the pad of your footfalls against the soil growing louder and then louder still, like the rhythmic strike of palms against a goblet drum. By the time you reached the source of the sound you felt the beat under your skin, thundering through the networks of sinew and nerves that kept you upright and pushing forward. The path opened into another glade, this one smaller and hugged tight by a ring of willow trees.

There was no drum to be found, though—in fact, the only other apparition in the meadow was that of a wolf before you.

Five years old and only knowing a life of brackish water pounding against steep cliffs and secret, sandy coves, you'd no reason to be able to identify the beast before you, and yet you were certain. Coat of lustrous gold by the light of the moon, it merely blinked its bleary, crimson eyes as you approached, none too cautious as you should have been. All the sound around you—the drumming, the crickets, the tree frogs, the whispers of the wind—quieted with the presence of the wolf. All that remained was the gentle sigh of breath from your new companion, who you knew, somehow, was just that.

But as you finally were close enough to feel the puff of heat with each breath from the wolf’s snout, you found it to be no wolf at all; you sunk your fingers into the thick, silky fur only to watch as feathered, inky wings unfurled to a great height from either side of the creature’s spine. The darkness cradled you then—downy feathers curling into a shield above your head as you settled between the maw and the chest of the wild thing, tame as a house cat in your presence.

You felt the beat of a heart and a rumbling against your back as you curled into its warmth. Your eyes grew heavy again, lulled by the chuff of the wolf that deepened with every stroke of your fingers through its coat. You whimpered, fighting against the pull of the inevitable day and wanting to stay here, if only a little longer.

“Not yet,” you heard, unsure even now if the beast had spoken the words or imparted them onto you, raspy and deep, “but soon.”

.

..

…

The absence of light in the sky and the knowledge that it was a Saturday meant little to you as you dragged yourself from the warmth of your sheets. Truthfully, you rarely needed an alarm clock these days—not when the smell of baking sourdough dutifully wafted up through your apartment each morning.

You slid your feet into your slippers, jamming them a little further inside on each trudging step to the bathroom. Toes curling into the fleece lining, you surveyed the damage you'd done in your sleep—hair in varying states of matted disarray around your head, and deep, darkened indents on one side of your face. You'd slept like the dead—dreams muted and indistinct, as they always had been. All except for that one.

No amount of taming could fix the rat's nest atop your head, but you tried anyway—ignoring the snag of knots as you forced every strand you could into some semblance of order, tight and secure on the crown of your head. You brushed your teeth and washed your face on autopilot, your mind already downstairs and 12 steps ahead.

Still in your slippers, each wooden step creaked its loving good morning to you until you reached the landing, shoving at the heavy wooden door with both hands, instantly warming at the sight revealed to you behind it.

Aiya stood at the great brick oven, more inside of it than not as she poked and prodded at the smoldering logs toward its opposite end. The smell of yeast and heat hit you like a wave as it permeated its way into every fiber of your being. It didn't matter that it was 5:30 in the morning—no one was as lucky as you in this moment.

"You'll get stuck one of these days."

Aiya swore, backing carefully out of the mouth of the oven to face you fully, her dark eyes already narrowed into a glare.

"You scared the hell out of me. Walk heavier."

You grinned, nudging her with your shoulder as you moved past her, deeper into the kitchen. Butcher's block already floured, thanks to your counterpart.

"We don't have any delivery orders today, yeah?"

"Nope," Aiya called, still fighting with the flames inside its brick container, "just a regular ol' baking day."

You hummed, scanning over the recipe cards pinned to the drywall in front of you—all recipes you'd sourced from years of harassing the community grandmothers and scouring local thrift stores. You settled on one of your favorites: a simple rye loaf, earthy and malty and beautifully sour. It was a best seller for a reason.

"I didn't hear you get up this morning," you murmured, grabbing the light rye flour off the wooden shelf above your head.

Aiya snorted, resting the metal poker against the brick of the oven and making her way toward you. "I don't know how you could've. I could've jumped on you from the top rope and you'd have slept through it."

She bumped her hip into yours, a silent request to shift so she could open the cooler below you, under the counter top. You did this dance every morning—the small size of the kitchen inconsequential to the knowledge of being so in synch with each other.

Despite feeling as if you'd known her in another life, Aiya had only entered this one in its second half, with you serendipitously knocking her clean off her feet at an early morning farmers' market, not quite awake and distracted by the merchant grinding flour in a portable mill. She'd been focused on the same thing, and your shared love of baking started a friendship that quickly became inseparable.

The decision to open a bakery came from an evening of drunken idealism—giggling and plotting the rest of your lives together, sighing over a possibility that felt too far fetched, even with the wine.

"I mean," you'd started, sitting back into the threadbare cushions of the couch you'd hauled in off the sidewalk a few years before, back when you'd moved her into your spare bedroom, deciding you needed it filled with her light. "We could just. Do it?"

Aiya snorted into her glass, whining when red splashed back in her face. "Damn. Right in the eye."

"I mean, why not?" you pressed, feeling emboldened, "the space downstairs is open. And our credit is...good enough? For a loan?"

Aiya ran a sleeve covered hand over her face, blinking bleary eyes at you in the dim of your living room. "I'm with you. I probably shouldn't be? But I am."

The rest were pages in your history—some less fondly remembered than others, but ultimately, you opened your bakery, right below your shared apartment overlooking the sea. It was dreamy, a thing you never could've imagined would turn into your reality. But here you were.

So you spent your mornings like this—waking up to the smell of rising bread, covered in flour and sweat before the sun came up. Over the years you'd become something of a staple in the community, and you were grateful for the assurance that your regulars would show up dutifully every time you flipped the little sign to 'open'.

Three hours later, you had a tray full of warm, oval shaped loaves to put on their wooden display shelves—all lined up like books in a library behind the serving counter. You placed them on their racks just as the morning sun streamed in through the front windows—your favorite part of the morning.

"Hana coming in this morning?" you called over your shoulder, making your way toward the front door to flip the sign and open for the day.

"Think so," Aiya made her way out to the front to join you, untying her apron and hanging it on the hook next to yours. The saloon style doors clanged shut behind her—a sound you never got tired of hearing. It reminded you of your great grandmother's kitchen.

Hana was Aiya's kid sister—she'd gotten into some trouble in the last few months, and you'd offered her a part-time job manning the counter to keep her on the straight and narrow. To your surprise, she was really good at it. Her grades came up shortly after she'd started, and although you'd given her the option, she kept coming back.

You returned behind the counter, adjusting and readjusting the wall of breads while Aiya filled the pastry cooler. The bell of the door rang out, signaling the start of the day.

"Good morning!" you called over your shoulder, pulling the metal cooking racks out from under your now-cooled rye loaves. "How are y—"

Turning around to face your first customer, your grip went slack—your racks clattering to the floor. You'd barely registered the pain of one bouncing off your slipper-clad toes, because in your doorway was your wolf—looking just as astounded to see you.

"What the—you good?"

Aiya bent down to pick up the racks, returning them to your still outstretched hands. She looked from you, to your visitor, who was a—man. A man, standing there before you, his definitely human hands shoved inside jean pockets that human people with human limbs wore. But—you knew.

It was his eyes, first—such an unusual shade of carmine that somehow felt like the most natural thing in the world to you. But then you noticed the hair—shooting out in all directions in the most familiar shade of gold—the exact shade of your wolf. It was him—it had to be—

You shook your head—this was insane.

"Sorry about that," you chuckled, fighting to shake off the momentary lapse in reality that you had to have just experienced, "I, um—yeah. What can I get you?"

The man in front of you blinked—wide, achingly familiar eyes still displaying the shell-shock that you felt.

"Just a—uh. Rye."

You fought through the second blow to your nerves, fingers stabbing at the register screen too hard, because—his voice. It was the voice, the one you'd carried inside your heart for the last 23 years.

You rang him up on autopilot, wrapping the loaf in its crinkly brown paper, your mind screaming at you not to drop it as you handed it over the counter. You sucked in a breath through your teeth as his fingertips brushed yours—it was all you could do not to wrench your hand back like you'd been burned. You forced a smile, though you didn't have to see your face to know it wasn't convincing.

"Thank you," you compelled yourself to say, "have a good one."

He nodded, turning swiftly on his heels. The bell chimed as the door swung shut behind him—giving you permission to slump against the counter, forehead to the wood as you fought for control over your own heart rate.

"What," Aiya drawled, peeking out from behind the kitchen doors, "was that all about?"

.

..

...

You sighed, flipping the door sign to 'closed'. You felt no satisfaction in hearing the lock click—not after this morning.

You'd never told Aiya about the dream—because why would you have? Kids had weird dreams—that was like, the cornerstone of being a kid, probably. It was weird that you had fixated on it, all these years. You were pretty sure you shouldn't have been able to remember it at all, with what stage of development your brain had been in, much less with such aching clarity.

Trudging back up the stairs to your apartment, you only half-heard the gist of Aiya's chittering—undeterred by your refusal to tell her what had affected you so suddenly this morning, and unconvinced by your half-true excuse of "I thought I knew him from somewhere". Only when you'd gone nonverbal did she drop it, but you had a hunch that her silence was strategic—it would come up again, undoubtedly.

You crawled into bed far earlier than appropriate, but you were wiped—you'd wracked your brain longer today than you ever had, trying to identify the meaning in all of this. The back and forth of okay but that was totally the wolf—bird—thing that visited me in my sleep when I was five, to at what point should I start considering psychiatric help was exhausting and giving you a bit of whiplash. Maybe there was no meaning—maybe your budding subconscious had leant into its creativity when you were small, and now the universe had just randomly dropped the human embodiment of the thing that had stuck with you for the last two decades at your doorstep.

You didn't believe that, though—not if you were really honest with yourself. You had—for better or worse—not been hardened by the state of being a human trying to forge a life in an unforgiving world, and you still believed that things happened for a reason. Which did not actually feel like a good quality to possess in this moment, because normal, jaded people would probably not sit up in bed and fixate on if their customer was actually a mystical creature. But here you were.

You reached for your nightstand—relying on muscle memory more than sight to seek out the thing that had always served to calm your racing mind. Tattered from over the years and embarrassingly obvious now, your hand curls around the belly of your stuffed dog—it's matted fur dulled to a dusty beige. It had been your first stuffed animal when you were born, and posed a striking resemblance to your wolf, though you supposed you could see him in anything if you tried hard enough, with your serendipity-loving mush brain.

Window open, the ocean breeze brought in a salty draft that flirted with your curtains and tickled your face. Tugging on a pointed ear, your eyes drifted closed as you drew in breath after deep breath, settling deeper into your bed. Crushed velvet under the pad of your thumb, you thought of the sound of the forest again—and what it would feel like to step onto that mossy ground now.

.

..

...

You were no more desensitized to his presence when he came back.

In the kitchen, you heard the bell clink off the door as it swung open.

You stiffened, like instead of the outside breeze something like knowing curled at your skin and raised goosebumps.

"Well hi there, stranger." You could hear the shit-eating grin on Aiya's face even behind the wall. "What'll it be today?"

Despite all of your brain's attempts to keep your feet firmly planted where they were, they carried you out to the register anyway, feeling nothing but especially foolish at the way you had no real reason to be out there.

"Good morning," you told him, voice quiet and smile still a little wobbly, but mostly recovered this time.

He nodded at you, a clipped thing that should've felt rude but only served to flip your stomach.

Aiya made no attempt to disguised the way she openly gawked at you both, curiosity morphing into something plotting as she plopped another rye loaf into a bag, dropped it on the counter, and walked back into the kitchen without a word. Leaving you and your stranger in silence.

It was only a minute before it felt oppressive. "I haven't seen you in before this week," a carefully worded half-truth, "you new to the area?"

He let out a grunt that you took as an affirmative. "New to the coast."

You hummed, trying to feign nonchalance, typing nonsense numbers into the screen in front of you just to have a reason not to look at him.

"Well," you smiled with what you were certain was too much teeth, sliding the bag toward him, "welcome to town."

"This your place?" he asked, careful to wait until your hands were off of it to reach for it this time.

Your smile was genuine this time. "Yeah. Mine and Aiya's, for a few years now." You told him your name, and only the important points of the shop's back story. "It's my baby. I'm always grateful when new folks find it."

You weren't sure if the drop in his shoulders was a trick of the light. "S'good," he muttered, nodding to the bag in front of him. The small praise curled around your heart.

"I appreciate that. What's your name?"

Florid eyes met your own, then, and their hardness should've been off-putting. Should've been.

"Katsuki," he said softly, breaking your gaze to reach into his pocket and drop a few bills into your tip jar.

"Well thanks, Katsuki," you suddenly felt a little bashful about having the jar at all, "I'll see you soon?"

He was nearly turned around by the time you saw him nod, here and then gone like he'd been the time before.

The saloon door creaked behind you - and you knew your best friend had been pressed against it for the entirety of that conversation.

"Okay," she started, huddling next to you, head titled toward yours conspiratorially, "you have got to tell me what's going on with him."

You sighed, looking around the shop. Empty for now, but there was no way to tell her any of what you were feeling without sounding insane, so there was no such thing as too little privacy.

"C'mon," you muttered, towing her by the elbow into the kitchen, all the way to the back wall.

"Out with it," she grinned, leaning against the counter and not worried at all about the flour now coating the underside of her sleeve.

So you told her. All of the details about the original dream from so long ago — the wolf, it's brilliant coat and inky feathers. The voice you heard, the eyes you now saw peering back at you each time Katsuki made an appearance. There was no stopping the heat that crawled up your neck as you explained your suspicions.

"I feel nuts," you groaned, leaning back against the counter, face in your hands. "This is nuts, right?"

Aiya was oddly silent as she considered it. A minute passed — and another before you started to squirm.

"I mean..." she mumbled, clearly still sliding pieces together in her mind. Her eyes snapped back to yours, bright. "It is. Definitely. But I'm inclined to believe you."

"I am not at all surprised by that."

"Hey," she chided, reaching over to shove at you, "I'm just saying. Stranger things have happened. Not to me. Or anyone I know. But I'm sure they have."

Her rambling made you laugh. She had such a way of telling you you were insane and affirming your insanity all at once.

"He's handsome, though," she grinned at you, far too knowing, "eh?"

"Don't you have something to do?" Groaning, you turned away from her, cheeks burning and unnecessarily grabbing stray pieces of parchment paper off the counter. She snorted, reaching out to squeeze your hip before walking back out to the register.

You let out a breath, sagging against the butcher block. Handsome, yes — unnervingly so.

"Dude!" Aiya screeched, startling you out of your commiserating, "He left like—" a pause, "thirty dollars in here!"

.

..

...

Katsuki returned with some regularity, after that. It was a good two months before you stopped sweating just watching him walk through the door. Longer still to stop the incessant hammer of your heart when you spoke to him.

Even through your nerves, you learned about him. He'd grown up around the deciduous forests inland (a tidbit of information that hit your stomach like a bomb), playing in streams and catching tree frogs. He'd grown up and been trained as a firefighter—eight months ago, he'd come to the coast to complete an emergency medicine certificate, and had decided to stick around.

"So like," you sipped at your tea, letting the warmth settle the lingering shakiness you'd felt since you (very bravely) joined him at his table during a lull between customers, "ambulance rides, IVs, all that?"

He'd taken to ordering something other than rye bread over the last few weeks. It could've had something to do with the way Aiya had started not-so-politely pestering him to order from the brunch menu on Saturday mornings. Until a couple months ago, you did not have a brunch menu.

He shook his head, leaning back in his seat. You felt your gaze slipping to the strain of his black t-shirt against his chest, but the mortification at getting caught kept it trained on his face. Not a bad alternative.

"S'what happens before the ambulance gets there. The idea is to station us at checkpoints in national parks, protected forest areas — places where help ain't as fast to get there. Some asshole ashes a cigarette and starts a forest fire — we go haul his ass outta there and treat the life-threatening stuff so that he's stabilized enough to be transported."

It was the most you'd ever heard him speak in one go, and the most animated you'd seen him to boot. To imagine him out there saving lives sent a wicked little thrill up your spine that you fought hard to ignore.

You brushed the pad of your finger over the rim of your mug, considering it. "So why fire?"

He shrugged, turning his gaze from you to something out the window, squinting toward the coast in the distance. The silence stretched on long enough that you started to fear you'd struck a nerve.

"My old man," he said finally, quieter than before. You watched as he pushed his hands into his pockets, shoulders raised slightly, like he meant to protect himself from a threat that hadn't materialized yet. "Our house caught fire when I was a kid. Electrical. By the time the smoke detector went off, the whole place was burning. Got me and mom out, but," he drew in a breath, held it. You found yourself mirroring him. "Yeah. No good."

You let out the breath and with it went all of the air in the room. You followed his gaze out, down to the ocean, pressing your palm to the ache in your chest.

"You must be proud," you told him, because it felt marginally better than something so meaningless as an apology for such a painful burden to carry.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him puff up a little at that. He hummed, a low, clipped thing. Cleared his throat.

"It's cool that you have a path that's so meaningful to you," you offered, trying to take away some of the strain of the last few minutes. "I always thought I'd be a librarian."

You watched him deflate, watched the wall come down just a hair, as he turned back to you. "What happened?"

You shrugged, taking another sip from your mug. "I hated the research part. Which turns out, is like...the whole part."

That earned you a rare and incredibly disarming hint of a smirk. It felt like Christmas.

"I just like to read. I like storytelling." You tilted your head toward the direction of the street outside. "There was a bookstore I worked in before we bought this place. This little old lady owned it, and when she died, I asked her husband if I could continue to run it." You smiled, drawn into the memory. "She'd told him under no circumstances was he to let me run the store."

Katsuki's eyebrows knitted together, and it was almost boyish enough to feel like a sucker punch to the gut. "Why?"

"She'd heard me talk about baking. She knew that was where my heart was." You rubbed a watermark off the side of your mug with your thumb — your turn to feel a little too vulnerable. "I would've been content there, but she wanted me to have more. No sense in settling for contentment when all I really needed was a kick in the ass to have what I actually wanted."

"I miss her," you said, nearly a whisper, "She taught me a lot. I didn't have someone like that until I met her."

Katsuki was quiet again, his default setting, watching you fiddle with your tea and considering what you'd said.

"Husband still around?"

"Yeah, actually," you grinned at him, relieved to be back in less unguarded territory, "he lives down the street. Hana takes him dinner rolls every Monday." You nodded toward the girl stationed at the counter, who was very obviously trying to eavesdrop unnoticed.

"He calls me every few days. He says he's lonely," you chuckled, shaking your head, "he's not. He's a busybody and he wants to gossip about the neighbors' yappy dog that pees in his yard."

Katsuki let out a surprised little laugh at that — a soft, raspy thing that hit your ears with such devastating sweetness that you weren't sure you could look at him. Blessedly, he looked down at his phone and cursed.

"Thanks for chatting with me," you told him, watching him wrap up the remaining half of whatever egg sandwich Aiya had forced on him this morning and stand from his seat.

He nodded, turning to leave, but paused halfway to the first step. Turning back to you, he said, "Nonfiction or fiction."

Smiling, you tilted your head to the side, confused and amused and assuming his statement to be a question. "Fiction. Not even close."

Nodding again, as serious as if you'd told him an answer far more grave than you had. Without a word, he left — the clang of the door behind him landing a little more melancholy on your heart than you thought it should. You watched him walk across the street — all roping muscle and broad, sure strides — until he was out of sight.

You shook your head in a feeble attempt to dislodge that last part, tipping back to drain the last of your tea before getting up to check on today's sandwich bread — a loaf that was notoriously difficult to bake to the correct rise and texture.

"I would say you're down bad," Hana drawled, leaning over the counter with her chin in her hand, "but that would pale in comparison to what I just watched."

"Shut it," you tried to be stern, but to suppress the flush was impossible. "Go get a bag ready for your deliveries."

She rolled her eyes, clearly not taking you seriously. You shook your head, unable to stop the smile pulling at the corners of your mouth as you walked back into the kitchen.

"Down atrocious, maybe," you heard her mutter behind you, "Dreadful? No. Down abominable."

"Oh my god, goodbye Hana," you groaned, grinning still at the sound of her answering cackle.

Down abominable, indeed.

.

..

...

A week later, you’d trudged down the steps in your slippers to pull the mail from the box, starting when your fingertips met something harder than you were expecting. Inside a careful wrapping of brown paper was a hard copy of a book you hadn’t read, but been eyeing in the shop down the road. A story about a baker and the mystical creature she befriends, that leads her on the journey of a lifetime. You shook your head, tucking the book under your arm and trudging back up the steps, a feeling blooming in your chest, expanding with every step.

.

..

…

You warmed at the sight of the caller ID on the phone, too near to closing to answer had it been anyone else.

"Well hello, little bear. How are you?"

You smiled at the nickname — you'd no idea how the couple had landed on it, but it'd stuck.

"I'm good, Jiji. How are you? You still having trouble with that little guy across the street?"

"Oh, he's just a nightmare. But that's not why I'm calling you."

You grinned, already anticipating this week's gossip. "Oh?"

"Now why did that little girl come down here and tell me you had a boyfriend before you did?"

Hana. That nosy little witch.

"I don't know why she would've done that, Ji," landline caught between your cheek and your shoulder, you were already drafting a sternly-worded text to Hana, "because I don't have a boyfriend."

"You might as well have a husband with how much he seems to be up in that shop with you."

You sighed, abandoning your ranting message for the moment only to pinch at the bridge of your nose. "You sure seem to know a lot about him."

His gravelly chuckle made you smile. "You like him, honey?"

"I do, Jiji," you said earnestly, warmed by the old man's concern. "He's good people."

"Well you'd better not settle for anything less than the best, you hear me?"

You swallowed, made difficult by the sudden onslaught of emotion. "Yes, sir."

"You know, when Kimina and I were dating, I got her one hundred roses and took her out on a canoe ride during sunset. That's where we fell in love."

"Is that so?" You choked back a snicker, remembering a very different version of events told by Kimina that ended in several bee stings and a capsized canoe.

"Oh yes, I was quite the Casanova. Anyway, did I tell you about the squirrel that keeps breaking into my bird feeder?"

You let Jiji drone on about his squirrel, thinking only about this feeling in your chest that seemed to grow with each passing day. The weight of it was astonishing and yet you knew you could — wanted to — carry it.

Was it such a bad thing? You couldn’t believe it was. You’d never shied away from a challenge, but this didn’t feel like that. It felt inevitable, like all you had to do was stand still and let it happen.

Like the sea, you'd let it swell up, spill over. There was no fear now — only the inevitable push and pull between you and this man that had both walked right into your life and been there the whole time.

.

..

...

The ring of the front door bell caught your attention — surprised that it was unlocked, and not at all surprised at who was standing underneath of it.

"Good morning, Katsuki."

He grunted his own greeting, setting down a to-go cup on the counter in front of you, only marked with your first initial, like it'd been too much for him to tell the barista your full name. This man.

You murmured your thanks and watched him linger, absolutely thrilled by the space he took up in your little bakery. "I'm actually going to close today," you told him between sips, "Aiya has to take Hana to get a physical, so it'll just be me, and I figured I'd take advantage of an off day."

He blinked, processing, and then his eyebrows pinched together something terrible. "You just leave your shit unlocked?" You watched him bristle, clearly embarrassed that he'd strolled in without knowing you were closed.

"You'd have to talk to Aiya about that," you told him, amused and not at all rising to the bait.

You let him flounder for a little bit — clearly fighting the urge to bolt. It was fascinating to watch him be ruffled by you, of all people.

"Actually," you offered, finally taking pity on him, "I thought I might go down to the beach today. Nice as it is out. Would you like to join me?"

His begrudging acceptance was not nearly as biting as it would've been had his face not mirrored the color of his irises.

You leave the bakery behind you (after locking up, at the not-so-polite request of Katsuki) and start the trek down the roadway to the beach, loose stones crunching and rolling under your feet. Late spring brought with it a cool breeze to dim the heat of the sun — your favorite time of year to throw on a big knit and sneak down to poke around in tide pools during slower days. You'd brought a blanket and some sandwiches for lunch — both of which Katsuki promptly snatched away from you and insisted on carrying, even though it was only a ten minute walk to the shore.

Which was convenient, because the second you stepped onto the softer silt that gave way to the ocean, you were off like a shot — cackling like a lunatic at the 'what in the fuck—" behind you under you couldn't hear it anymore, sweater torn off and discarded somewhere behind you. You ran toward the water until it caught you — wrapping around your shins, your thighs, and finally swallowing you whole as you dove in.

The sea was cold enough to steal the breath from your lungs and lock up your muscles, but you were used to it. Each swell picked you up and set you back down gently, almost enough to be lulled into some catatonic state of security had you not lived here all of your life and known acutely of the violence the ocean was capable of. But there were no grudges to be held. The ocean could never be expected to be anything but herself.

"Don't ever be foolish enough to settle for someone who believes you can be tamed," Kimina had told you, arm in arm as you walked down the beach all of those years ago.

"Jiji hasn't tamed you?" you'd asked, not quite knowing if she was being serious.

"God, no. That man couldn't tame a chihuahua, much less a woman. Listen to me," she'd pulled you to a stop then — surprisingly strong for how brittle she was — and looked you straight in the face, "There is something wild inside of you. You don't give that to anyone — it is yours. When a man tries to take from that wild — and he will — you let it out. It will keep you safe until the right someone comes along and can live in harmony with it."

You'd blinked — not wholly surprised by the impromptu lecture, because Kiminia was prone to those, but they weren't usually as...on the nose. Her usual disquisitions were a little harder to interpret — this one was not.

She'd looked at you expectantly. "Okay," you'd said, still a little bewildered, "I understand."

Satisfied, she'd gone on like she hadn't said a word, chattering instead about that year's prediction of the best vegetables to plant in raised gardens. You'd half-listened, mostly focused on the push and pull of the water along the shore. Heeding Kimina's warning — learning more than you thought you would when you'd agreed to walk with her that day.

You let the ocean hold you in it's embrace until the cold reached your bones and became less than tolerable. You paddled back, wringing your shorts and tank top out as best you could once you could stand and walk back in.

Katsuki stood at the water's edge, expression entirely unreadable but waiting for you nonetheless. You walked until your chest was only a few inches from his. He squinted at you, mouth twisted in some sort of scowl. Your smile was slow to spread, but once it started, you couldn't stop it.

He clicked his tongue, clearly trying to decide what in the world was wrong with you. "You gotta death wish?"

"Mhm-mhm," your cheeks ached with the grin that wouldn't go away for anything.

"You gonna walk around like a wet cat for the rest of the day?"

"There's a towel rolled up in the blanket."

"Course there is."

You followed him back to where he'd dropped your stuff — surprisingly orderly for having just watched you dive into the freezing ocean on a whim. You filed that one away for later.

While Katsuki stooped down to rummage through your bag, you worked on wringing your hair out — curls coated in brine and sand, a problem for later tonight. You twisted it tight enough to squeeze the water out let it fall back down over your shoulders.

Then it was dark — your towel thrown over your head. You squawked, caught of guard, and tried to bat it away; but your protests died out the second you felt a new pressure.

Separated by the towel, you felt his hands ghost over your shoulders, down the length of your arms, in between your fingers. You'd never been so aware of your body before that moment — and only what he'd touched. A floating torso in the middle of the beach.

You let him preen you, careful not to breathe for fear that you'd scare him off. Only when he stopped and stepped back did you snap out of it enough to pop your head out from under the towel.

He was quiet for a moment, studying you, and then —

"You look crazy."

You whipped the towel at him then, screeching something absurd at him if only to get him to laugh. But you were warm. Despite the bone-chilling water and the breeze, everything was warm.

Pulling your sweater back over your head, you settled in next to him on a flat rock, heated by the setting sun. You pulled your knees to your chest, resting your chin on the flat of them while you watched the tide come in.

The silence was an amicable one, punctuated only by the static current you felt between your bodies, and the way you fought the urge to scoot closer to him.

Until the right someone comes along and can live in harmony with it.

And there it was again — that searing, unignorable feeling that you'd been here before. Not the beach, but the closeness. The silent safety.

"Can I share something with you?" You asked as the sun began to dip below the horizon, bathing everything in a deep coral.

He hummed — your long-learned interpretation of his permission. He didn't look at you, but you knew he was listening.

You took a deep breath. "When I was a kid, I had this dream. It was the strangest thing — I was walking through this forest, and I'd never seen it before, but it was like I knew where I was going. I walked on for a while until I walked into this sort of clearing. And there was this giant wolf. It was the most striking thing with these really intense eyes."

You could've sworn you felt Katsuki tense beside you. "And again, strange, because I just walked right up to the thing. And like, plopped down in its...whatever the equivalent to a lap is on a wolf."

"And I didn't want to leave," you murmured, "it was so devastating. I felt myself start to wake up and just. Fought the hell out of it. But wolf tried to calm me down. It said, 'not yet, but soon.' And that was the end of it. I never had that dream again, but I never forgot about it."

"This is the part that's really, really weird," you warned him, forcing out a little laugh to dispel your nerves. "You walked into the shop for the first time, and it was the most jarring thing because you looked exactly like the wolf. Same eyes, same hair color. Freaky, but like, coincidences are a thing."

"But then you spoke. And it was the same voice I'd heard in the dream. And I just...haven't been able to figure that one out."

Immediately the silence was crushing, the regret of mentioning it at all pressing, pressing, pressing, until you had to say something to get it to dissipate.

"It was just a weird thing, I think—"

"You were a rabbit."

You balked, not quite believing your ears. "What did you say?"

"In my dream," if you hadn't been as focused as you were on every word out of his mouth, you might not have even heard him, "you were a rabbit."

There was not a thought you could possibly voice as a follow up to that.

"...huh," is what you settled on, wholly unable to get your brain to catch up.

"It was a beach. Never’d even seen a beach, and there I was," he was incredibly matter-of-fact about it, like it wasn't shredding your insides to know that you'd both carried this thing the entire time.

"The first time I heard ya talk I thought someone was playing some sick joke on me," he murmured. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him turn his head to look down at you. "I cancelled my train ticket back home that day."

You nearly snapped your neck with the force you whipped around to look at him with. "You did what?"

"I know," he said, with a smile that gored you straight through the heart. "I called mom 'cause I thought I was losing it. But she knew about the dream. She just said 'dad sent you there."

Hand over your heart to keep it where it was, the other reaching out to tether you to something, the tears came hard and fast — blurring the image of the man beside you. Your tether was him — the strength rippling through his forearm under your fingertips, but the only thing you could feel was the warmth. His skin, the calloused palm he settled over your own.

"I watched you run into that freezing fuckin' ocean like a psychopath and that was it. I knew exactly who y'were to me," you felt him shrug with a nonchalance you weren't sure you'd ever feel again. "There was nothing I could do."

"Oh," you choked, snotty and gross and suddenly indignant, "you pick right now to say the most romantic thing I've ever heard anyone say in my life?"

His head fell back with a laugh that burned through you. He didn't give you any room to think too hard about it — he just pulled you under his arm, into his chest. Your temple rested over his heartbeat like you'd been here lifetimes before.

"This is crazy," you whispered, quiet in the dark, held by the ache in your heart suddenly soothed by him.

"Yeah."

You fell back into the silence easily — thoughts fragmented and dull, except for one. You sat up, seeking his outline in the fleeting light.

"Where have you been staying?"

He looked away from you, choosing now to suddenly get sheepish. "Hotel."

"Wha — you've been living in a hotel for this long?"

His silence was more than telling.

"Jesus Christ, Katsuki," shaking your head, you gathered your things, balled up bigger than you in your arms and glaring at him. "C'mon then."

He followed you without a word, his amusement a tangible thing. You muttered to yourself the entire way home, absolutely incredulous.

You shoved your key into the lock, pausing to turn over your shoulder, pushing the door open.

"And what would you have done if I hadn't just spilled my guts to you like that? Live in that room permanently? That is so —"

"Ahem."

You froze, turning slowly to meet Aiya's gaze at the top of the steps. Her and her unbearable grin.

"Were you right?"

You looked at her, over your shoulder to Katsuki, and back again. "I was."

She hummed, her smile growing as she started down the steps. You moved to let her pass, but she stopped on the last step, opening her mouth and—

"Say goodbye to your balls, Katsuki."

Your jaw dropped, all indignancy stolen quickly by the sound of Katsuki's howl behind you. The sight of him nearly doubled over doused your fire immediately.

"Yeah, yeah," you rolled your eyes, shoving into Aiya with half-hearted strength, sending her into the wall with your shoulder. "Bye, whatever, love you, bye."

The door clicking behind her cut off her giggling and draped you in quiet. From your spot on the step, you stood eye to eye with him, and the nerves came back like a freight train.

"Alright, let's—"

He caught you before you could turn away — his fingers warm as they circled your elbow. It happened in slow motion — the drag of his fingertips up to your shoulder, his approach, the slide of his palm up the side of your neck, grip tangled and gentle in your curls, the breath you fought to drag into your lungs, the brush of his nose against your own —

"Please," he murmured, lips nearly brushing yours. It was all you could do not to unhinge your jaw and swallow him whole.

You settled for this — both hands fisted in his t-shirt, dragging him the extra centimeter to you, swallowing such achingly beautiful sounds he made. The glide of his lips over yours felt holy, felt like a firecracker detonating under your skin, felt more necessary than air —

He held you to him by the back of your neck and something about it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

This is what we are, you thought, tugging his bottom lip between your teeth just to hear the rumbling groan he'd give you in return, this is what we were always going to be.

It was soft until it wasn't, and then it was something entirely animal. His kiss was bruising, and you could only take — more of his affection, more of this feeling, more of him —

"Upstairs," you whispered against his mouth, breathy and pleading —

In another reality with far less urgency he probably would've let you at least walk up the steps yourself, but you couldn't find it in your heart to mind too much when he hauled you into his arms and up them himself, choosing to occupy yourself instead by using the new angle to your advantage — fingers hooked under his jaw, dragging his mouth back up to you, him going willingly.

Somehow he found his footing on the landing and promptly sought out the nearest soft-ish surface. When he found the couch, you braced yourself to be deposited on the cushions — to have him over you, to be contorted to his whims, already the panic singed up your spine —

It didn’t happen.

His back hit the couch and his hands never left you, looking up at you all flushed and breathing heavy and adoring, like you’d never done a wrong thing in your life —

Oh. Oh.

The realization took the wind from your sails and replaced it with a sort of molten pleasure, like a marionette pushing and pulling you toward him, chest to chest, fingertips prying and searching, needing to be so much closer than you physically could’ve been.

His hands were gentle dragging up your back, under your shirt. His lips ghosted across your jaw and down your throat, kisses syrupy and disarmingly affectionate.

But there was something wild in you, after all. And it called to him louder than you’d ever heard of it.

“I want to touch you,” you told him, slurred against the onslaught of his mouth, “I don’t want to be gentle.”

The thrill you felt at the shiver that pulled from him was unimaginable. More still at the whimpered “please” against your lips. Like a crackling whip, it set something free in you — and it was all the permission you needed to tear into him like you needed to.

His hair tickled your palm as the dulled ends brushed against it. You curled your fingers into it, grabbing a fistful and pulling back hard until he could only stare up at you, eyes hooded in unbridled want. Your unoccupied fingers set to explore, trailing up from his throat, to his jaw, to his bottom lip.

Like you’d asked him to, his lips parted. Heat lit up the space between your hips as you slipped two fingers inside, groaning at the feeling and at the shameless work of his tongue around you. Still held in place by your grip, he had to wait for you to move — and once you did, you understood the appeal.

His eyelids fluttered with every push forward and back drag of your fingers on his tongue. Swollen lips wrapped around you, only reluctant to let you go. The soft scrape of his teeth against your knuckles, the deep breaths through his nose, his low, little whines — the curl of his hips underneath you, all of that hardness seeking out any sort of soft relief. All of it was more captivating than you could’ve thought possible.

You let him go eventually, painting his skin with wetness and replacing your fingertips with your tongue. The poor thing — panting and so eager to wrap his lips around whatever you put between them.

Your fingers fell to the curve of his throat, thumb and pointer finger finding both sides of the delicate skin below the cut of his jaw and pressing down. That ripped something loud and broken from him — you let go of your grip on his hair just to watch him writhe underneath you, his powerful, assured posture given way to this blind, desperate search for friction, for more.

It felt like a god — to do so little and have this wall of a man shattered beneath you. You’d have done it forever, had you not been soaking through your panties and reaching a boiling point yourself.

You pushed back and off of him, no limit to the swelling in your chest at his whining protests.

“Take your clothes off, Katsuki.”

You blinked and it was done, and he was so wickedly beautiful you’d have looked away if you’d had any ability to do so. Flushed down his chest, head tilted back over the back of the couch, eyes nearly closed in his overwhelm but still glued to you. You took the liberty of a thorough inspection, eyes drifting down the length of his body, unable to part with the sight of the seemingly involuntary thrust of his hips, his cock angry and heavy and leaking against his stomach.

You pulled your sweater over your head, and then parted with your tank top and shorts, still damp and the only coolant for your fevered skin. Every layer removed pulled an almost inaudible whine from the back of Katsuki’s throat, like every second under this fog of sensation pulled him closer to animal and further away from man.

You stood just out of his reach, reveling a little in this picture of him and also considering something.

After a moment of thought, it came to you with such a wave of arousal that you nearly buckled under the feeling.

You took a step to him and leaned in, hands coming to rest on his thighs, pressing down to hold yourself up. His head followed your own, mouth seeking yours like a moth to a flame, like the most inevitable thing in the world.

“Mm,” you left yourself lay it on thick, the moan low in your throat and genuine, just to feel him shudder into your kiss, “you want to eat my pussy baby?”

He pulled away with a whimper, eyebrows knit together and those beautiful red eyes hopelessly unfocused but wanting, nodding fiercely, needing you to know that there was not a thing he wanted more than that.

“Get on the floor.”

He was there in an instant, body seemingly turned liquid to slip underneath you and settle there, head tilted back over the cushion, mouth already gaping, panting and searching —

You settled on either side of his face, knees pressing into the cushion, feet draped over his chest. Both of his hands wrapped around your heels, whether to keep you there or to attempt to tether himself to something, you didn’t know.

His tachycardic inhales were more gasping than anything else, like he could get a taste of you just by sucking in hard enough. You let him want it for a little while, hovering over his face just out of his reach, swollen and aching and nearly dripping —

He was patient until he wasn’t, and then he was on you — hands coming up to paw at your hips, to slot you firmly over his face, mouth open and tongue lolled out to catch you.

You pitched forward, body collapsing into the back of the couch with a strangled sort of cry, immediately overwhelmed. You pressed your forehead to the padding in front of you until you hit the resistance of wood, all of your limbs suddenly deadweight and numb, only feeling the drag of his tongue.

He worshipped you, taking the liberty to pull you forward and down and pushing you back, your swollen clit catching on the wet meat of his tongue, his mouth like a vacuum seal over the entire thing, swollen and open and made to please you —

You took to moving your hips yourself, the vibration of his groan rattling up your spine as you fucked his face, taking, taking, taking — using the entirety of it to your satisfaction, the cut of his jaw and the curve of his nose sending delicious little pangs of pleasure up your spine with every quick catch of your clit on them.

“Fuck me,” Katsuki rasped, gasping and needing, “fuck me, fuck me—”

His grip on your ass was bruising, pulling you down and spreading you open. The feeling of his tongue spearing into you, soft and dexterous and searching along your walls, pulled something like a wail from you, your body taking over, pushing you up and dropping you back own on it, needing more of the gentle stretch, his wet exploration —

“Oh, I’m gonna cum—” your voice sounded pitiful, pitched up and muffled in the crook of your elbow in a feeble attempt just to hold on. You reached to find your clit and pressed tight, quick circles into it, hard and hot and achingly sensitive under your fingertips — “Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum—”

And you did — hard and fast and nearly painful, your pussy squeezing tight around his tongue, every other muscle seemingly contracting in solidarity. Eyes shut tight against the onslaught of feeling, your body curled into itself, bucking into his mouth, trying to get more of it, trying to get away from it — static filled your ears and drown out the sound of your broken cries —

And then it was over — the pleasure turning molten and pooling outward, down into your limbs, and dissipating. You trembled in its wake, still for a minute until you remembered you were probably suffocating the man underneath you. You popped up quick — a little too quick, apparently. Your vision swam and you grabbed for the couch back — the feeling of hands at your thighs to steady you and the murmured “easy” hitting your senses like you were underwater.

Your movements were slow, nearly liquid as you made your way down to him, thighs split over his own to settle there, immediately noticing —

“You came,” you murmured, earning a soft snort from Katsuki, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. You pressed forward into him, trapping his soft cock and the mess he’d made between your stomachs, leaning into his chest and feeling his arms cage you in like you’d done this all your life.

The press of your cheek against the dusting of blond hair was a soothing thing, rubbing against him like a satisfied cat. His head tipped down to hold you there, his jaw still slick with you as it came into your view, silently beckoning for you to meet him halfway —

His kiss was a balm to your frayed nerves — warm and wet and solid against your mouth, for no other reason but to kiss you. It cut the rest of your strings — you felt the clench of your stomach release and sagged boneless into his hold. This time, there was nothing particularly erotic about it — no residual arousal pooling in your gut, no tingle up your spine. It just felt good, like warm water over cooled skin.

Satisfied, he pulled away from you with a sigh, dropping his head back to the cushions. You pressed a kiss to his jaw and settled underneath it, fighting the urge to let your eyes close.

“We need to shower,” you croaked, lips brushing his skin and making him shiver, “we’re gross.”

Katsuki hummed, his palm smoothing up the path of your spine. Making no attempt to move. You switched tactics.

“You know, Aiya usually brings a guy home with her after she goes out —”

“Yep, got it,” he said, suddenly full of life as he dragged you both off the floor, heeding your directions down the hall and to the bathroom through your giggling.

He took his time with you in there — washing the sand and salt from your hair, your hands pressed to the tile as he covered every inch of your back, with his hands and then his mouth, moving down, moving slow, under the curve of your ass to where you were burning again. You pulled back to turn, your back meeting the slick wall, to watch him swallow you whole — more captivated by the stroke of his fist along the satiny skin of his cock, tugging hard in time with flicks of his tongue against your clit —

You stood there, shaking and collapsed against each other under the steady stream of the shower. Trading sweet presses of his lips to your temple for murmured, affectionate nonsense until you were pruny and exhausted. You let him dry you off — something he appeared to gleam real satisfaction from, and who were you to stand in the way of that, really — and towed him down to your room, the warm embrace of your mattress nearly enough to bring you to tears.

He slotted in behind you like the most perfect puzzle piece, every inch of him molded to your backside like it was the way you’d been shaped from the start. Pillowed by the crook of his elbow, you sighed at the decadence of it all — settling in to him, nearly purring at the brush of hair away from your neck, replaced by the airbrush press of his mouth.

“We’ll talk tomorrow?” your voice was quiet in the dark.

He hummed, and the rumbling against your back was like a sedative — pulling you with gentle grasp into sleep. You had a fleeting thought that you might just see your wolf again after all, now that you had the real thing wrapped around you like this.

Tomorrow, then.

note: thanks for reading, love u <3

[marsdql]

yandere!jay headcanons!

Yandere!Jay who will pepper you with love—gentle kisses all over your face, soft whispers about how much he adores you, arms wrapped around you so tight it’s almost suffocating. He treats you like you’re the most precious thing in the world, like he can’t believe you’re his. “I love you so much, you know that? You’re my everything.” But the second he finds out you went out without telling him? That sweetness fades instantly. His jaw tightens, his smile drops, and his eyes darken. “Oh? You thought that was okay?” His voice is eerily calm, but the tension in the air is suffocating.

Yandere!Jay who suddenly gets cold and distant, leaving you to sit in uncomfortable silence as he processes the fact that you dared to go somewhere without his permission. His usual affectionate nature disappears, replaced by something much more dangerous.

Yandere!Jay who grabs your wrist just a little too tight, pulling you closer so you can see the sharp glint in his eyes. “Tell me, sweetheart. Who were you with?” He asks, his tone dripping with fake sweetness. The way he tilts his head would be charming—if it weren’t for the jealousy radiating off him.

Yandere!Jay who plays mind games, making you feel guilty for ‘hurting him.’ He sighs dramatically, running a hand through his hair as if he’s deeply wounded by your actions. “I just worry about you, you know? What if something happened? What if someone tried to take you from me?”

Yandere!Jay who won’t let this slide easily. If you don’t apologize properly, expect him to ignore you, leaving you desperate for his warmth again. And once you do apologize? He pulls you into his arms, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Just don’t do it again, okay? I don’t like being mad at you.” But the warning in his voice is crystal clear—he won’t be so forgiving next time.

Yandere!Jay who spoils you like a princess—buying you expensive gifts, cooking your favorite food, and whispering sweet nothings in your ear while he holds you close. He loves seeing you happy… but only when it’s because of him.

Yandere!Jay who completely switches up the moment he finds out you went out without telling him. His fingers tighten around his phone as he reads your text. "Oh, so you went out?" His jaw clenches, and suddenly, his whole mood darkens.

Yandere!Jay who calls you immediately—his voice is eerily calm, but you can feel the tension through the phone. “Where are you? Who are you with?” His usual sweet tone is gone, replaced with something much colder.

Yandere!Jay who doesn’t believe your excuses. “You forgot to tell me? That’s cute. Try again.” His chuckle is low and humorless. He’s pissed, but he’s not going to explode just yet. No, he wants to see you squirm first.

Yandere!Jay who tells you to come home immediately. He doesn’t care if you’re in the middle of something—he wants you back where you belong. And if you take too long? Expect him to come get you himself.

Yandere!Jay who waits for you at the door, arms crossed, expression unreadable. The moment you step inside, he grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him. “You must really enjoy testing me, huh?” His voice is low, his fingers just barely digging into your skin.

Yandere!Jay who suddenly pulls you into a suffocating hug—but it’s not comforting. It’s possessive. His lips brush against your ear as he whispers, “Do you have any idea how much I hate being away from you? How much it kills me when I don’t know where you are?”

Yandere!Jay who makes sure you learn your lesson. Maybe it’s keeping you trapped in his arms for hours, refusing to let go. Maybe it’s taking away your phone for the night so you “won’t be distracted.” Or maybe… it’s a quiet, lingering punishment. He won’t kiss you, won’t touch you—he’ll make you beg for his affection again.

Yandere!Jay who eventually forgives you—but not without a warning. He tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his eyes. “You’re mine. You know that, right?” His lips ghost over yours before he finally kisses you, slow and deep, reminding you exactly who you belong to.

Yandere!Jay who smirks when you nod, pleased that you understand. “Good girl. Don’t make me do this again.” His tone is playful, but you know better. It’s not a request—it’s a threat wrapped in sugar.

[ @teddybeartaetae]

[exitingmusic]

Goddamn Roaches

AN: first fic, req's open, please ignore any spelling mistakes :)

Warnings: language? (bugs if your worried)

This was a godawful mission. First, you had to wake up at the crack of dawn to get to the airport where you spent 6 straight hours crammed next to Mactavish on plane. A plane where you got no food, no rest, and no space.

It was safe to say you were pretty pissed. The feeling only growing stronger as you saw your rooms weren't prepped, the shitty hotel not even cleaned from the last occupants. The sheets were thrown around and trash strewn throughout the room.

So, the two of you got assigned to a single room, with a single full bed, not nearly big enough for the both of you and too uncomfortable to sleep well enough on.

“I sure hope ya packed your own stuff,” Soap grumbled from where he rummaged through his bag, “I ain’t sharin’.”

You roll your eyes, too tired to argue with him, “I’m gonna grab a shower," you said, unrolling your sleeping bag on the floor.

You tuned out his complaints and grabbed your bag with your toiletries, carrying it into the small bathroom, your limbs heavy as you turned on the water and got in.

Instantly, you recoiled as the freezing water hit you, cursing as you pressed yourself to the far wall to get away.

A couple minutes later, it had warmed up a tad, but it was still cold. Grumbling, you gave up, craving the idea of being clean more than getting out.

You quickly showered, relaxing slightly as you scrubbed your scalp, your hair greasy from the exhausting and irritating day.

Shutting the water off, you climbed out and dried off, slipping into a pair of comfortable clothes and putting the towel around her shoulders.

Much more relaxed than before, you gathered your things and went back to the excuse of a bedroom, Soap giving you an irritated glance up from his phone, thankfully staying quiet.

After putting your belongings away, you climbed into your sleeping bag and opened your phone.

A couple minutes passed and you turned around, facing the wall when you froze, eyes going wide.

Multiple cockroaches were less than a foot away from your face.

Oh hell no. Absolutely not.

You jumped up, letting out a quiet shriek. Soap bolted up at the tone in your voice, narrowing his vision to try and make out your form in the darkness. “What? What is it?”

"Look, right goddamn there, in the corner!" You pointed to where your head was laying.

Soap spun around, peering at the corner. “I don’t see anythin.” He stammered, eyes darting from corner to corner.

"There's like 6 cockroaches right there, they were right next to my fucking head!"

He immediately relaxed, a slight smile on his lips, "Oh, I thought it was somethin' serious."

You looked at him incredulously, "The fuck you mean something serious? Are you slow?" Your eyes widened at a realization, "Oh shit, what if some are in my hair?"

You started yanking fingers through your hair violently, determined to find the stupid bugs as she ran to look in the bathroom mirror.

Soap rolled his eyes, leaning up to watch you from his sleeping bag. “You’re gonna to go bald if you keep that up.”

You ignore, still yanking and scratching your scalp frantically.

“Just stop pickin' at it.” He huffed, standing up and walking towards you. “You’re going to tear your hair out at this rate.” Soap said as he stood behind you, grabbing your hands.

"I don't want roaches in my hair," you turn around, close to tears from frustration.

“Ey! They’re not in your hair!” He assured you, his eyes slightly wide. “Just stop pullin' on your hair and let me freaking brush it."

He gently turns you around to face the mirror and grabs a brush. Soap gently ran the comb through your hair, watching your form in the mirror. “You know, I wouldn’t be scared of some roaches.” He teased, starting near the bottom of your hair. “They’re just little bugs," he said, gently working through a tough tangle. “They won’t hurt you.”

"Well some little bugs do, and have you seen those things? They are NOT little," you shuddered.

“They’re small compared to you, lass,” he argued, moving the comb to a new area on your head. “Besides, they’re not like those stinging insects. They won’t give you any pain.”

"They give me emotional pain."

“You’re a drama queen.” He grumbled, starting to work on a different section of hair. “All that racket over just some roaches.”

"Kind as always," you mumbled, closing your eyes briefly, relaxing at his surprisingly gentle brushing.

“I’m just saying, you’re the biggest pansy when it comes to bugs.” He chuckled, continuing to work on your hair.

"Not really, I like bugs, just not roaches," you insisted, "It's like how you're scared of dogs."

He rolls his eyes, muttering something under his breath.

You stayed silent, relishing the feeling of the brush running through your hair, his careful hands separating her hair.

Soap chuckled behind you, "If I knew you got this quiet if I brushed your hair I would've done this a lot sooner."

"Don't even start MacTavish," you warned, your eyes still closed in bliss.

He laughs quietly and brushes your hair for a couple more minutes before setting the brush back down and clearing his throat, "No roaches in your hair, lass."

You open your eyes to meet his blue ones in the mirror, nodding.

Soap takes a step back for you to move around him, watching you with an odd look in his eyes.

Avoiding his gaze, you start to walk back into the room, pausing where the tile turns into carpet, squinting.

"What's wrong?" Soap asks from where he stands behind you.

"I don't want to step on a cockroach," you say quietly.

He chuckles before grabbing a couple paper towels and gently moving you over. Soap walks out and to the corner where the roaches were, squatting to squish and clean them up.

Soap returns quickly to flush the bugs, brushing his hands off and looking at you.

"You want me to carry ya over there?" He asks suddenly, looking just over your shoulder.

Surprised at the offer, you hesitate but nod, gratefully accepting his offer.

Soap's lips twitch into a small smile and he turns around for you to jump onto his back, "Well hop on then lass."

Flustered, you climb onto his back, arms wrapping around his neck while her legs wrap around his waist securely. His hands immediately go to your thighs to hold you in place as he turns the bathroom light off with his shoulder.

You settle your chin onto his shoulder, higher than you normally were as he walked around the bed, checking for any more pests before gently unwinding you from around him, setting you down gently on his sleeping bag.

You give him a confused look as he stares at you expectantly.

"Well get in," he says, gesturing to his sleeping bag as he unties his boots.

You comply with his words, still confused as you slip into the bag, inhaling his scent.

He crawls in right next to you, his scent growing stronger as he lied next to you, his body pressed against yours and his scent filling your nostrils.

"Why did you want me to do this?" You asked, not too unhappy with your situation.

Soap's response is pulling you into his chest, his arms wrapping around you, "Well someone's gotta protect ya from the roaches."

You open your mouth to say something else but get interrupted by Soap's firm voice, "Get some sleep bonnie. Ain't no roaches gettin' in 'ere."

You couldn't really argue with him with your face pressed against his chest, so you just burrowed farther into him and wrapped your arms around him, finally getting to relax, as surprising as the situation was.

The last thing you felt before you fell asleep was a kiss to the top of your head, his fingers gently combing your hair as you stayed in the sleeping bag, with him.

[xxepherr]

i have another hasan fic idea!! (if your open to requests)

reader is a popstar and releases a surprise single (like "nasty" or "positions" by ariana grande) and he reacts to it on stream and is blushing and flustered listening to it🤭

.ೃ࿐SURPRISE SINGLE

summary — in which you drop a surprise single conveniently while hasan is streaming, and that means he has to react to it on principle.

pairings — hasan piker x popstar!reader (established relationship)

pronouns — none

word count — 1750

note — i am SO open to requests!!!!! i don't personally think he'd blush but i think he'd get flustered word-wise if that makes sense. like SUPER caught off guard by it all. not my best work but i tried </3

WOULD HASAN CONSIDER YOU a closed off person? no. you weren't necessarily secretive either, so when you kept yourself locked away in the studio hasan had put together for you, your head in the clouds for months, he knew something was up.

he wasn't sure what exactly, just that your hands were constantly covered in pen ink by dinner time, and that you hummed the same tune as a mellow afterthought. or the way you disappeared "to the studio" but you never took your notebook with you, and usually came home with your hair a different way or covered in stray glitter.

hasan paid attention, he knew you had an album you were working on that was due to be released later in the year, but you were never this quiet about it. you bounced ideas off him, you let him sit in the studio with you and brainstorm what sound you wanted until you got distracted and gave it up for the day. it was the reason why you usually went to a proper recording studio with producers more often than needed.

either way, he trusted you. he didn't want to pry as much as it would ease the constant itch in his brain. you'd lost quite a bit in simply just dating him in the first place — people didn't like the fact that you were dating a political commentator, but you moved past it fairly easily. ignorance was truly key to happiness. you were happy.

it was like any other day. you woke up, put kaya's harness on her and held the unattached leash separately ( just in case you ran into other dogs and their owners on the way ) and went out for a run on your normal circuit in the neighbourhood. when you got back, you kissed your boyfriend through the car window as he left to go meet his personal trainer at the gym. you made a simple breakfast of cereal and fruit and retreated back to what austin had started calling your cave.

it was for one last time in a while, just to prepare a few things so that you could immediately promote the single once it dropped. it was all lined up and awaited the click of a button . . . just hours from now. you felt jittery with excitement, the secret of a few months so close to being exposed to millions.

HASAN came home and did as he usually did — ate a ridiculously protein fueled meal, took a shower, prepared his things for stream, and then joined you for an episode of the show you were currently watching. in fairness, it was the first time in a while he'd joined you or the show part of that plan, something he was incredibly confused about but not exactly bothered by. it was nice, cuddled up together on the couch, sharing moments together that weren't meals or naps or brief moments you'd bring his food to him while he was locked in on whatever he was talking about on stream.

"i have to get up," hasan's chuckle was breathy, his fingers trying to pry your hands off his bicep. you clung to him with all the strength you had, a whine building in the back of your throat.

"five more minutes," you sighed. you both knew five minutes turned to ten which then turned to at least thirty. once he had been a whole two hours late because you wouldn't let go of him, all to the point where he considered just streaming with you clinging to him like a backpack. he wouldn't, of course, but it was definitely still a thought. he knew you wouldn't care anyway, your lyrics were quite . . . questionable and anyone could decipher what your relationship was like without having to physically see it.

"you wouldn't give me five minutes when you were off being secretive," he challenged lightly, eyes rolling in a playful manner. "i promise i'll take more breaks than usual to come see you," it was a common form of negotiation in situations such as these, one you couldn't argue with.

if you were interested, you'd sit in the chair off camera that murat usually sat in, or you'd sit in the armchair he put in the room just for you to read a book while he chatted politics. you wouldn't be doing that today, not even popping in for a quick hello to ask him something like you normally did. not today.

you let go of his arm, doing so in a way that made it look like he'd finally pried your hands away, and pressed your lips against his cheek. "fine . . ." you drawled in mock disappointment. "go do your job or whatever."

he laughed, standing up from the plush couch and disappearing around the corner. you tapped on your phone, the wallpaper of you and hasan posing with his mum in front of a gingerbread house from christmas last year greeting you with the time. you had a few hours to kill before the single's release, and so in the meantime you could tidy up a few things before his parents arrived later tonight.

HASAN, DESPITE POPULAR BELIEF, didn't actually get annoyed as easily as perceived. things had to pile up and really push every single one of his buttons to create an outburst, and one thing that certainly did that was some dumbass spamming the same thing over and over.

"dude, i can't fucking stand dumbasses like this," he sputtered out his usual rant, one that at least half of his chat could probably recite word for word. "shut the fu—" he cut himself off when he opened the link in a separate tab, a snippet of a sound he hadn't heard before paired with what he knew was footage of the richard nixon presidential library. the part that caught him off guard was that your youtube channel's name was displayed at the bottom as he paused it.

oh. it all made so much sense now. all the hours spent holed up in your studio . . . all the hidden secrets and the sudden shutting of your notebook whenever you were close enough . . . oh.

"okay," hasan cleared his throat, dragging it over to the main screen. he didn't make a big spectacle on unbanning the person who spammed the link because how could he be mad? and set the music video back to the beginning. he couldn't not watch it, not when he'd reacted to all your other songs and music videos on stream. "quick break so we can watch this."

heaven sent you to me, i'm just hopin' i don't repeat history.

already, he was justifying it in his head as if he really had to. the title, positions, had him a little nervous as if you hadn't written suggestive songs about your relationship before. it was a little more obvious in the target demographic ( himself, mainly ) when you, in the music video, were clearly meant to be depicted as the president of the united states.

boy, i'm tryna meet your mama on a sunday. then make a lotta love on a monday.

okay, it shouldn't have been a huge deal. it wasn't. once again, this was no different from what you had written before, if anything, this was probably more toned back. even with that, the fact that he had no warning about you dropping this song whatsoever had his face feeling warm at the contents.

switchin' them positions for you, cookin' in the kitchen and i'm in the bedroom . . .

he was uncharacteristically silent through the rest of the song, not glancing away from the video on his monitor. not even to stare at either one of his chat that he had open. he only snapped out of his daze when the lyrics begun to fade and the door to the room swung open.

"thoughts?" he heard your voice before he saw you, a skip in your step as you made it over to stand behind his chair. you leaned forward, wrapping your arms around his neck, eyes scanning the chat that he had finally started scrolling through again like he wasn't just at a loss for words.

"uh, i, uh," he stuttered momentarily, clearing his throat. the messages he scrolled through were turning into various greetings directed at you. you giggled softly in his ear too quiet for his mic to pick up. "you were fucking amazing, when aren't you?" he just managed to grasp his bearings, looking at you through his monitor.

"aw, i think your face is even a little pink," you leaned even closer, squinting as if to try see it through his beard. tone riddled with tease, "did i do all that?"

hasan glanced away, scoffing out a laugh that you knew was the result of him feeling flustered. he was never super vocal whenever he was embarrassed, but all the signs were there. his body heat had skyrocketed, and he twisting one of his silver rings with one hand while tapping the desk with his other. mission accomplished, you supposed. the secret song was all worth it to witness this.

"thought you'd appreciate me being the president," you shrugged, a grin spreading across your face when he didn't answer "would i be the hottest president ever?"

"mhm, i don't know," he pretended to think, "have you seen obama? man, he could hit a three."

you turned your head slowly, your eyes locking with the obama cutout leaning against the wall behind the small cutout of queen elizabeth and bernie sanders. on numerous occasions when you sat in the room while he was working or when they used to do the podcast in here, you would have to get up and turn it around so you didn't feel like obama was staring into your soul.

"yeah, okay," rolling your eyes, you straightened back up, mindlessly lifting your hands up to fluff up the back of his hair. "i'll let you get back to talking about . . ." you glanced at his other monitor, "elon musk." the face you pulled was enough to show your subtle disgust because you knew one word would have your pr bombarding your phone and you didn't really want to deal with that today.

"i'll take an encore of positions later," hasan added as an afterthought as your fingers left his hair and you waved goodbye to his stream.

"of the song or . . ." you raised an eyebrow at him, and he winked at you in response.

"surprise me."

[cravingrickgrimes]

𝞋𝞎 ─────── “Firsts”

pairing: rick grimes x male reader

summary: before the apocalypse, you never got to do anything with anyone. so you took the end of the world as a good sign you should probably do that already. you knew what the bar was known for, a gay sex establishment, yet you went anyway.

warnings: asshole rick, one night stand, southern accent, rough rick, heavy smut, descriptive, rushed

word count: 1.5 k

To say i was out of my element going to the only place in the entire commune known for being a gay sex worker establishment was an understatement. I had never been with a man, partly because when the apocalypse came by men weren’t allowed to be with other men. Since then the rules have relaxed a bit. I doubt it’s because bigoted people had all been killed, i’m not that dumb, it’s just that people have other things to worry about than gay people. If the apocalypse was all it took for me to get some dick i would have done it years ago.

Pushing open the double doors, a bell rung above my head that drew almost everyone’s gaze to me. Great. I moved my face to anything that didn’t have a pair of eyes and wasn’t goggling at me. They met a back tightly wrapped in a beige shirt, the man wore a dark brown hat that curved peculiarly. Deciding that my best option would be to sit next to the person who had no interest in me, i called up the bartender and got myself a drink quicker than i could take another breath in this stuffy place. I half expected the man i had sat next to ignore me entirely. I was completely wrong however when he shot me a tight smile accompanied by a tight nod. “Howdy.” The interaction was nothing but polite. I met his gaze as soon as he spoke to me and nearly fell out of my seat once i saw his face.

His eyes, the colour of an ocean in the middle of a storm, drew me in and wouldn’t pull back until i greeted him back. “Hi.” I wasn’t as southern as him and saying ‘Howdy’ back to him felt like a mock. He had a freshly shaven beard that he must have liked the look off because he didn’t dare shave it all off. The facial hair around his chin had turned an icy white not dissimilar from his gaze.

Just as quickly as he greeted me, he turned his eyes back to their regular spot on the rim of his beer glass. I knew what i was doing going there, i wanted rid of my virginity. Right as i saw that man i knew i wanted it to be him and only him. I wanted him to be my first. Problem was i had no idea how to strike up a conversation with a man who wanted nothing to do with me. Instead, i directed my attention towards the bathroom and darted before the beer i had downed came out in my jeans.

After i had thankfully reached the urinal, i pulled my cock out and felt a rush of relaxation as i emptied myself. I threw my head back; squeezing my eyes shut and biting back a groan from the feeling. I was so enthralled by it in fact that i didn’t realise someone had came into the bathroom with me. When i opened my eyes again i saw who exactly had come next to me. The man with the southern drawl was right next to me again. Though this time, his 5 inch soft cock was out and pissing into the urinal beside me. I stared at his member through the corner of my eye and didn’t dare look away.

“Like what ya see or somethin’?” The only thing that tore me from his cock was that beautiful accent. I had realised what i had done the moment i was out of the mesmerising trance. I flushed instantly.

“I’m so sorry! I—didn’t mean, no i don’t. Well it’s nice! It’s beautiful but…”

“Beautiful?” That garnered a grin from the man that so far had been anything but happy. I’d describe him as grumpy. “Ya think my cocks beautiful darlin’?”

I didn’t want him to get the wrong idea from me, but i didn’t want to lie. “Of course it is,” I chuckled. “i mean…look at it!” He tilted his head to his dick in his hands like he had never noticed it was there before. But instead of giving a sly remark of saying anything else, he just began pumping his cock with his veiny right hand.

“What’re you doing?” I tried to back up but my spine collided with a wall. He moved closer toward me. Apparently my heart couldn’t tell the difference between this man and being in a life threatening position because it just wouldn’t stop beating.

“We all come to this bar for the same reason. I don’t like asking for sex, i let them come to me.” He winked. “You did just that darlin’” He pulled his jeans down to his ankles and, with a belt in his left hand, now stroked even faster. “C’mon. You ain’t never had anyone like me before.” A pause. “Have ya?”

I shook my head, mostly because i thought this was a sick and cruel wet dream my mind was conjuring. “No, i’ve never had anyone.”

“No one?”

“None.”

A strange feeling of pride rushed through me when he laughed once more. I had the feeling he didn’t laugh much, and i made him laugh twice. “That’s odd. A beauty like you would have been tore through in the old world. At least, that’s what would happen if i’d gotten my hands on you.”

The way he objectified me should have angered me beyond return. But it was his beautiful body that was now being revealed with each button he broke off, he took his hand off his cock and dropped the belt to do so. “So, am i gon’ be your first or what?”

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that he looked this good and got to get away with his rude comments because of that fact only. It wasn’t fair that any one of the distasteful words that came out of his mouth were soothed smoothly over by that thick southern accent. It wasn’t fair that i obliged his offer and got on my knees and stared up at the cock above me.

“It’s bigger than ya face, darlin’” He grinned from above me pushing his cock into my face. I smiled back at him because i enjoyed the look of his happiness—for some odd reason.

I took one last look at his cock in all its glory before grabbing it roughly with my left hand and slid it sloppily into my mouth. I made sure that none of my teeth hit his penis. With a thing like that, i didn’t want him feeling any pain or discomfort. I had the odd sensation of giving him pleasure and only pleasure. Once i took his nice rosy pink head in my mouth, i felt my own dick grow slowly in small increments the more i took into my mouth.

“You’re a god sent.” He moaned from above me, which only motivated me to do even better. I tried to take half of his manhood in my mouth but gagged and pulled off him leaving a trail of spit connecting me and his beautiful cock. “Oh c’mon. You can take it.” I enjoyed his faith in me so much that i tried once more this time forcing it down my throat and letting it pulse fully in my mouth. “Fuck baby.” I left myself there, nose buried in his pubes, for as long as i could. He jolted his cock in my mouth and made me acutely aware that it was stuffed down my throat. I gagged it up that instant.

I made up for my gag reflex by fondling his balls with his dick a couple inches in my mouth. His balls were as freshly shaven as his beard, stubble lining his huge ballsack. He seemed to like my new technique as he snaked a hand through my hair and gripped harder than i thought he was capable of. Tears snuck into my eyes as he forced me deeper than i could go. I looked up at him with pleas in my eyes, but, he preferred the feeling of my youthful mouth rather than my wellbeing. I couldn’t blame him, i preferred his cock over his personality.

He let go after a few seconds of me slapping his muscly, hairy thighs that lead to an even hairier body above them. He had a dark trail of curly hair below his naval leading toward his small amount kept pubes. His chest was an entirely different thing however, it seemed like he let his chest do whatever it wanted to. Almost his full chest was dusted in dark brown hairs that made me want to explore his body even further than i already had.

He ran a hand through his disheveled wavy hair revealing an armpit that was even less kept than his chest. “Last stretch darlin’” Without warning, he grabbed both of his hands and forced his thick, uncut, veiny dick to the very back of my throat. My eyes widened by his sudden need to asphyxiate me. “Just sit there and be good for a minute, ‘k?” I had no choice but to stare up at his god-like body with awe as he shot his seed into my sore throat. Weirdly enough, it soothed me more than i could have imagined. It was as if i had gotten drugged by his semen. That was it. That was my first.

[nameless-jamie]

AAAAA I ABSOLUTELY LOVED NICE GUY! I'M OBSESSED WITH JEALOUS JAMIE!!! Can you write one where PA's old client (or some new footballer whatever you prefer) tries to steal her and he and Jamie have it out on the pitch during a match? I'd love if the team teased him after since "he's not a jealous type" and PA tells him she wouldn't leave him to calm him? Thanksssss!

Red Card Part 2

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! PA reader

TW: cursing, suggestive scenes, angry Jamie

A/N: Hi, I'm so glad you liked A Nice Guy. You're idea fits so well with a ff I posted yesterday called Red Cards, about an angry Y/N, so I basically was obsessed with the idea of making this part two (They both finally realize they are in love with each other) It doesn't really fit with the OG Ted Lasso timeline but idc. I wrote this all through the night (in my timezone lol) hope you like it!!!!

Y/N had worked with a few big names before Jamie Tartt.

She’d been in this business long enough to handle all kinds of footballers—prima donnas, workaholics, egomaniacs. Some had been a nightmare to deal with. Some had been decent, if a little demanding. And then there was Jamie, who was all of the above and yet still her favorite.

He could be a pain in the ass, sure—stubborn, dramatic, ridiculously high-maintenance—but he was also loyal, hilarious in the most unintentional ways, and, despite all his posturing, genuinely cared about the people close to him.

So yeah, she’d had other clients before him. But there was no one like Jamie.

And she sure as hell wasn’t planning on working for anyone else ever again.

Apparently, Declan Rice, a former client of hers hadn’t gotten that memo.

They’d worked together briefly during his last season at West Ham, before he transferred to Arsenal. He’d been an alright client—organized, professional, a little too flirty at times but never crossed the line. It had been strictly business.

She hadn’t thought much about him since.

Until now.

She spotted him during warm-ups at Arsenal’s home stadium, the Emirates, standing near the center circle with his teammates, rolling his shoulders and stretching before the match. He looked the same as he had when she’d worked for him—tall, confident, the picture of professionalism with his neatly styled hair and focused expression. But when his eyes landed on her, something sharp flickered in them, and he abandoned his warm-up, striding over toward the Richmond dugout where she stood with Ted, Roy, and Beard.

Jamie was further down the touchline, stretching with the rest of the Richmond squad, blissfully unaware.

Declan stopped beside her, giving her a slow once-over, an easy smirk curling his lips. “Hi Y/N, you still working for Tartt, then?”

Y/N crossed her arms, instantly on guard. “That a problem, Declan?”

He hummed. “Not a problem. Just surprised.” He gestured toward the Richmond crest on her jacket. “Thought someone like you would’ve moved on to bigger things by now.”

Ted let out a low whistle, rocking back on his heels. “Oof. Boy’s got a death wish.”

Beard just grunted while Roy muttered something profane under his breath that sounded like 'Fucking idiot'.

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”

Declan didn’t seem fazed by her sharp tone. If anything, his smirk deepened. “Fair enough. But if you ever do wanna make a change and maybe work for a good player…” He winked. “You know where to find me.”

That was when Jamie’s head snapped up.

He hadn’t been paying much attention before, too focused on his own pre-game rituals, but the moment Declan winked, Jamie’s entire body went rigid. His gaze flickered between them, jaw tightening, his usually relaxed expression darkening into something unreadable.

Roy smirked. “Havin’ fun over there, Tartt?”

Jamie scowled. “Piss off, Roy.”

Ted just chuckled a little uneasy.

Jamie shot Declan a glare but said nothing, turning abruptly and jogging onto the pitch.

Y/N sighed, rubbing her temples. “This is gonna be a long match.”

From the very first whistle, Jamie was not himself.

Jamie tried to be professional.

He really, really did.

Normally, he played with fluid confidence, always a step ahead, making quick, clever passes and effortlessly weaving through defenders. But tonight? He was aggressive.

Every movement was sharp, every tackle a fraction too hard, every sprint laced with frustration. And the reason why was obvious.

Declan was everywhere.

Shoving him during corners. Smirking when he won possession. Blocking his runs just enough to be irritating but not enough to get penalized. And worst of all—glancing toward the sidelines where Y/N stood every chance he fucking got, as if reminding Jamie exactly who had his attention before the game started.

Jamie gritted his teeth, jaw aching from how hard he was clenching it. Fine. If Declan wanted to play dirty, Jamie wouldn’t hold back.

He slammed into him harder than necessary while fighting for the ball, sending Declan stumbling.

The ref blew his whistle immediately.

“Tartt, easy!” the ref warned.

Jamie didn’t respond. He just glared at Declan, stepping in close enough that their shoulders brushed.

Declan smirked, voice low. “Touchy, mate.”

Jamie glared at Declan. “Stay the fuck away from her.”

Declan smirked. “Didn’t know you owned her, mate.”

Jamie shoved him.

The ref immediately pulled out a yellow card.

Roy was already shouting from the sidelines. “Fucking hell, Jamie!”

Ted sighed. “Yeah, saw that one coming.”

Y/N closed her eyes, exhaling slowly. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Jamie knew he had to keep his cool. One more reckless move, and he’d be off. But then—Declan took it too far.

It happened in the 78th minute.

Richmond was down 2-1. They had a free kick just outside the box, a perfect opportunity to equalize. Jamie stepped up to take it, rolling his shoulders, focusing. He needed to block everything else out.

“Dunno what she sees in you, mate. Could give her a better offer, yeah?" Declan tried to rile Jamie up.

Jamie was good at ignoring his antics... at first.

And then—just as he was about to position himself—Declan leaned in, voice just loud enough for Jamie to hear:

"You know, she was the best assistant I ever had. Kept me real satisfied.”

Jamie’s blood froze.

Declan smirked. “Might have to steal her back. Think I’d enjoy breaking her in all over again.”

Jamie snapped.

There was no thought. No hesitation. Just pure, burning rage.

He swung his leg—not at the ball, but at Declan’s ankle.

Declan went crashing down, clutching his leg, rolling like he’d been shot.

The whistle shrieked.

The ref stormed over, fury in his eyes.

“TARTT—OFF!”

The red card flashed in the air.

The Richmond fans groaned in unison.

Jamie barely registered it, still seeing red. His breathing was ragged, chest heaving, his entire body wound so tight it felt like he might explode.

Declan, still on the ground, looked up at him with a satisfied smirk, while another Arsenal player pushed Jamie towards the exit saying “Real mature, mate.”.

Jamie didn’t even care, he didn’t even argue. Just shot Declan a venomous glare as he stomped off.

The moment Jamie reached the sidelines, Roy exploded.

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!”

Ted sighed. “Well, that’s unfortunate.”

Beard just shook his head.

Y/N stood there, arms crossed. “Seriously, Jamie?”

Jamie exhaled sharply. “He was chatin’ shit.”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed. “And that was worth getting sent off for?”

Jamie scowled. “Maybe.”

Her expression softened slightly. “What did he even say?”

Jamie hesitated. His fingers twitched at his sides. “Nothin’.”

She knew that wasn’t true. But she also knew Jamie, knew that whatever Declan had said had gotten under his skin badly.

Y/N exhaled. “We were losing. We needed you.”

Jamie hesitated. “Yeah, but—”

“No buts,” she shot back. “You let him get in your head.”

Jamie scowled. “Did not.”

Y/N just looked at him.

Later, when the match was over and the team was back in the locker room, the teasing began.

Richmond still managed to equalize in the final minutes, saving the match.

But Jamie’s red card? That was all the team wanted to talk about.

“Not jealous, huh Jamie?” Sam grinned.

“Proper alpha male moment,” Isaac added.

Colin smirked. “Never seen you so territorial, mate.”

Jamie groaned. “Piss off.”

Ted just patted his shoulder. “Jealousy’s a hell of a drug, son.”

Jamie grumbled under his breath before heading toward the physio room, where Y/N was waiting.

She turned when he entered, arms crossed. “You know you’re an idiot, right?”

Jamie sighed, rubbing his face. “Yeah, yeah.”

Y/N softened. “Why’d you let him get to you?”

Jamie hesitated. “…Dunno.”

She stepped closer, placing a hand on his arm. “Jamie.”

He exhaled. “Just—don’t like the idea of someone takin’ you away, yeah?”

Y/N blinked.

Then—softly, with a teasing smile she said. “You do realize I’m not a football transfer, right?”

Jamie rolled his eyes. “Obviously.”

She smirked. “So you don’t own me?”

Jamie groaned. “Fucking hell.”

Y/N laughed. “Fuck, you really are an idiot.”

Jamie leaned in, his lips brushing her ear. “Yeah, but I’m your idiot boss, so watch out.”

She flushed. “Shut up.”

He smirked. “Make me.”

She rolled her eyes. “You wish... Still not jealous, though?”

Jamie groaned again, dragging a hand down his face. “Well, now I hate you.”

She grinned. “No, you don’t.”

Jamie just pulled her closer into a tight hug.

Maybe he was the jealous type.

And maybe—just maybe—he didn’t mind, because he loves her...

[seventeenlovesthree]

Digimon Adventure Reboot Sequel AU - Chapter 0: Weird

Summary: Despite his best efforts, Mimi, Sora and Koushirou have, indeed, noticed that Taichi has been acting rather off recently. Unwilling to accept his weirdness as the status quo, they meet up to discuss how to handle it...

Based on: [Prologue] [Concept] [Designs] [First Idea]

Word Count: 885

„No matter how you look at it – Taichi-san has been acting weird lately!”

Mimi’s voiced oozed with frustration, as she flopped back down on her personal chair in their “hideout” with emphasis. As Palmon blinked at her, she gracefully flipped her hair over her shoulder, grabbed the cup of lavender tea in front of her and took a small sip, letting her statement sit for a moment.

A moment Koushirou and Sora used to exchange a worried look. Mimi may have been the one to order them all to gather due to “an emergency!” – which, as it turned out, was “Taichi-san being weird” –, but if they were being honest… They had noticed it too.

“I think I’m aware of what you’re referring to”, Koushirou agreed after a while. “My personal verdict is that he hasn’t gotten a lot of sleep, since he’s been spacing out frequently. But whenever I try to address it towards him, he says everything is fine.”

“As he usually does, but I think it’s all deflection”, Sora added, leaning against the computer table while Koushirou went back to trying to fix the blue screen Mimi had caused by accidentally ripping out a cable during her heated rambles from earlier. “He’s just… Smiling it away and, I mean, that’s always been him, but…”

“It’s like he’s hiding something”, Koushirou concluded without looking up from the screen.

“I know, right?!” Mimi put down her tea cup with a clinking sound, causing Piyomon and Tentomon to make inquisitive noises as well.

“And really, it’s not just that, it also feels like he’s forgetting things or getting them mixed up”, elaborating, Sora fumbled at the hem of her college jacket. “Last time I asked him if he wanted to have an extra training session, he just looked at me like a deer in headlights and asked if I wasn’t already meeting with Yamato… Who’s in Shimane. I have no idea where that came from all of the sudden. It’s hard enough to get the group together these days and I didn’t understand why he was so confused about me not traveling to Shimane in the middle of a school week.”

It really had been a chore to “keep the whole gang together” these days. While Yamato and Takeru had always been living in Shimane and, outside of Summer and Winter breaks, only joined them on their digital adventures in the net through a port in their area – usually it were only Taichi, Koushirou, Sora and Mimi that ended up gathering physically at their meeting points, namely the club house Mimi’s grandfather had sponsored a few years ago. With Hikari going to a different middle school and Jyou thoroughly focusing on his management career, their group of eight really was somewhat decimated.

“Super weird…”, Mimi pouted and Koushirou actually lifted his gaze this time.

“Speaking of which, he was asking me if I had talked to Jyou-san about college entrance exams for medical school…”

“He did what?!”, Mimi screeched. “Where’s that coming from?! Jyou-senpai has been so determined to take an internship at our company, grandpa would be devastated if he had suddenly changed his mind – and I would know, Jyou-senpai hasn’t shut up about it, I can show you our texting history, it’s-“

“That’s what I mean by him getting things mixed up”, Sora tried to intervene, smiling at Mimi serenely, so she immediately calmed down a little. “Even though these things really come out of nowhere…”

“Well, maybe high school is getting to his head?”

“His grades seemed to be fine overall though, even if… He’s never been the most studious”, Koushirou thought out loud. “Perhaps we could ask Hikari-san about it?”

“It didn’t seem like they had problems at home either.” Once Sora had said these words, the room got quiet. An aura of worry and confusion that was only disrupted by Mimi sipping on her tea again – more nervously than before as well. They had all known Taichi for several years by now, he had always been their beacon of confidence, a leader to look up to in every situation, positive and unshakable, especially during their gate hopping shenanigans. Seeing him so scatterbrained really was a novelty for all of them.

“There’s another possibility…”, Koushirou eventually broke through the silence with a low voice, drawing all attention towards himself.

“And what would that be?”, Tentomon asked curiously, flying over his head.

“Well… There is at least a tiny chance it’s caused by a Digimon he encountered the last time we went into the network.”

“So what, you believe there is a virus in the net messing with his head? Like… Giving him a cold that made him forget things or something like that?”

Hearing how peculiar it sounded by Mimi’s skeptical tone, Koushirou wasn’t so confident in his theory anymore.

“We will have to test it first of course. By talking to him once more and scouting the network for irregularities.”

“Well then, what are we waiting for?” With that, Sora pushed herself onto her feet again. “You’ll keep investigating on the digital side of things, Koushirou-kun, and we’ll, once again, try to get something out of him in person.”

“Spoken like a true lioness, Sora-san!”, Mimi cheered happily and raised her fist encouragingly. “Let’s solve this mystery once and for all!”

[gorgeous777]

A Flower, Neville Longbottom x Fem. Reader

Maybe this time he'll get it right.

A/N: Another bot turned story (｡-∀-)♪ https://share.character.ai/Wv9R/ie2tqwfj @jasperpasta

Enjoy!

________________________

The Yule ball had been announced not long ago, but it drew closer with every passing day. Everyone was buzzing with excitement, buying formal wear and asking people to be their dates. The hot topic for everyone fourth year through seventh was dates. Who was taking who, who was asking who, ect. It wasn't until after Professor McGonagall's dance lessons did it occure to him that he too needed a date. And fast. Everyone, especially his year mates, were already betting he'd go alone. The first (and only person really) that came to mind was you. He'd been crushing on you for ages now.

But, he'd never had the courage to make a move. He tried a few times before, though it never came off quiet the right. He wasn't the best when it came to any romantic area. With the way you reacted before, he had seriously doubted himself. He had narrowed it down to you either trying to reject him gently or him just being plain too dull. And neither were necessarily the case, still his mind told him otherwise. He promised himself that this would be the time he finally got it right. So after planning and talking himself into it fully, he did just that. His first decision was to make it into a more romantic gesture.

How he was going to manage that he didn't know. In result, he went to Hermione: the only girl he thought to talk to about this. Anxiously, he tracked. Which wasn't a hard feat, seeing as she was in the library like usual. "Hey uhm, Hermione?" He fumbled as he tripped over the chair next to her, attempting to pull it out and sit in it. "Yes Neville?"

"I was wonder if you could help me with something"

"What is it?" He pauses, his tongue slipping between his lips to wet them before he responded. "Well, uhm. I wanted to ask Y/N to be my date to the ball. But I'm not sure how, I want it to be romantic and make it clear it's not in a 'let's go as friends' sort of way, y'know?" Hermione smiled, finally tearing her gaze away from the book she was reading to the boy beside her.

"Oh Neville, that's nice! What did you have in mind"

"See that's the problem, nothing. I was hoping you could help me with the whole romantic bit"

"I see. Well, there's a few ways you could go about it"

"Like what?"

"Would could always just do something simple. Like propose with a flower. A poster, if you want to be grand about it" He thought hard about Hermione's suggestions. The idea of making a poster sounded nice, but he didn't trust his artistic skill for that. A flower sounded perfect though. And it gave him an excuse to go back to the greenhouses. So, he nods. "A flower sounds perfect" With that being said, he bid his friend good by and headed off to the greenhouses. After walking around them all and searching thoroughly, he realized that none of the flowers he found were suitable. They were all either ugly, smelt horrible or were just plain dangerous.

That put him in a difficult position. His next course of action was to go search the grounds until he found one. After several hours of doing so, he managed to find one of those big daisies. It wasn't a rose, but it would have to do. And it was the thought that counts, right? Only things left to do now was give you the flower and ask you out. That was going to be the hardest part, easily. Hours of reaching and wandering later, he managed to find a few of those large wild daisies. He picked out the prettiest one out of the small bunch. Now he just had to ask you out. He felt his stomach drop at the thought. What if you said no? Or what if he messed up and made a fool of himself? A million anxieties washed over him during his walk back to the castle.

When he got back inside he caught you out of the corner of his eye walking down a corridor. He froze. Should he do it now, or should he wait? Maybe he just shouldn't at all. He took a deep breath. He was gonna do it now. If he waited any longer that gave somebody else the chance to ask you to be their date. He did a little jog down the corridor in attempt to catch up with you. "Hey Y/N wait up a moment please!" He called out, stuttering a bit as he did. You stopped walking once you heard Neville's voice. With a smile you turned around to face him. He sighed inwardly, now able to catch up with you a lot easier. The flower was now hidden behind his back, making him look ever more awkward than usual.

"What's up Neville?"

"I was just uhm.." He trailed off momentarily, licking his lips while as his cheeks grew burning hot. His grip on the flower shifted slightly. With a small breath, he managed to hold out the flower to you. He barely managed to lift his gaze from the floor to look at you as he spoke. "I was wondering if you'd be my date to the ball..?" You felt your chest grow impossibly tight and ache. A blush quickly formed across your cheeks that matched his. Excitement erreupted through your veins like a volcano. "Yes!" You exclaimed joyfully, much to his surprise.

"Really?"

"Yes, absolutely! I would love to!" He let out a meek flustered noise as you suddenly jumped up and hugged him, causing him to stumble back a bit. Though, he's not very slow to return your hug with a growing smile. "I'm so glad" His voice came out trembling due to how flustered he was. Nonetheless, he was a very happy camper. After a few long close moments, he gently set you down and took a tiny step back. He fumbles his words a few times trying to say something. Ultimately, he gives up and just holds the flower back out for you with a small 'Here'. "Thank you" His gaze his back on the floor now, and he's rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly with a soft nod.

"You're welcome.."

[beef-brisket]

Adam leaned into the kiss for only a moment before he quickly moved away, and jumped off the bed.

Adam: Y-You know, out of all the shit you've said to me- that's the worst- most c-cruel thing-! The fuck, Lucifer?! I'm not hot- so the fuck?! The ACTUAL fuck?!

Lucifer was a bit taken aback, but he's not surprised by Adam's outburst. He's pretty much a giant, glorified child at this point.

But, he did find it a bit strange that what Adam was made about was pretty much being called "hot".

Lucifer thought that was his whole thing, calling himself hot, and fuckable. So, what was happening?

Lucifer: I... okay, hold up. Let's take a step back. What's happening?

Adam: W-What do you mean, "what's happening"?! I- you- you said I let myself go-! And I have-! So, how the fuck am I hot one minute- and f-fucking disgusting the next?!

Lucifer: I... A-Adam-.

Adam: So what, have you teamed up with Bambi or something?! Is this the worst fucking joke, Lucifer-! I know I. Fucking gross, alright?! I've delt with the angels- amd Sera- fucking Sera, say I'm a fuckimg embarrassment- just- I-I can't fucking deal with this.

Lucifer: Adam! Wait!

Lucifer reached out and grabbed Adam's arm, stopping him from leaving. He could feel how much the first man was shaking under his grip, and by the way he turned his head away, he was crying.

Lucifer: Adam, I swear, I'm not lying. I shouldn't have said those things to you, I was just... look, I was wrong, so wrong. You look amazing, really. You were made to be perfect, Adam-.

Adam: Lilith's perfect. I'm not... I'm a fucking dud. Even after everything, they still preferred her... n-no matter what I did, it wasn't enough... I-I'm not perfect, I never was... c-can you let go, please...?

Lucifer stared at Adam's back in shock, he's never heard him sound so quiet and weak. He didn't like it. He'd rather Adam yell and scream, instead of this.

Lucifer: No... I won't let go.

Standing, Lucifer went to move in front of Adam, but he turned away, covering his face.

Lucifer: I swear, I'm not lying, Adam. And you didn't deserve the shot you went through... I thought Heaven would have helped you or something. But that was just wishful thinking... they can't help but make things worse... and that goes for me, too. I hurt you, and I refuse to do it again.

Taking Adam's hands, Lucifer was finally able to see a part of Adam's face. He hasn't seen Adam cry since Eden. And it hurt to see as much now as it did then.

Lucifer: I... can't even imagine what Heaven has said or done to you. But you didn't deserve it, Adam.

Adam scoffed: ...You sound like her.

Lucifer: Who?

Adam: ...Charlie... how did you two assholes have such a sweet kid...?

Lucifer laughed: No idea... can I tell you a secret?

Adam: ...I guess. If you want.

Lucifer looked down at Adam's hands, smiling at the chipped black nail polish. He remembered laughing at the different ways Adam tried to disguise his new demonic features. His claws included.

Lucifer: She reminded me of you... she still does.

Adam: ...I'm not like her. She's... hopeful. I'm not that...

Lucifer: ...When she smiled, I saw you. She was so curious and wanted to see and touch everything. She sees the best in everything... it takes a lot to bring her down... and... I don't want her to get hurt and... end up-.

Adam: Like me?

Lucifer: What-?! I... y-yeah- but not for the reasons you think! I meant... I don't want her hurt. For people to use her- to take her for all she's worth, then to throw her away like she's nothing... I don't want her to end up closed off and ridiculed. And, when I see you... I hate that I was the cause of your pain. I couldn't get out of my own shit to see how I was affecting you or other people. When I see you, I feel shame. You're the only thing I regret about my actions. it is how I hurt you. You're... you're so important to me, and I just...

Adam: killed me...?

Lucifer: ...K-Killed you... and... I regret that so much.

Adam nods, looking away: It wasn't all your fault... I wasn't... you know, important enough, ans that was my fault- I should have tried harder-.

Lucifer: Hey, no. That's- that's not it, Adam, I swear.

Adam tilted his head: I wasn't... smart enough?

Lucifer: No-.

Adam: ...I'm not blonde?

Lucifer: What-?! No! Of course not!

Adam: Okay... can't give birth?

Lucifer: Uh-.

Adam: Ambitious? I didn't know... what else.

Lucifer: ...Is this what you've thought...? For all these years...?

Adam shrugged: I couldn't figure out what I did. Or what I didn't do... I just figured out it was me. I did everything wrong, nothing right, so why try? And... then you kiss me. Why now? I'm broken- why didn't you do this when I was perfect, when I was something important? Why now...? I was nothing when I was an angel, but I'm something when I'm a monster?

Lucifer: Adam. Stop. That's not it.

Adam laughed: Then what is it? How can you feel something for me when I'm at my lowest...? You don't even know me.

Lucifer: Of course, I know you, I've known you since the beginning.

Adam: I'm not the same person... I died. More than twice. I'm not the same. I'm worse. You can't like me, why would you like me? No one likes me- you of all people can't like me- you're lying to me.

Lucifer: Adam- enough. Breathe, okay. I... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I... it... it wasn't your fault. In the garden.

Adam: Yes, it was. You told me to leave, remember? Said I was sick, wrong, a failed prototype-.

Lucifer was definitely panicking now. He forgot he said any of those things. Everything flooded back to him, hitting him like a brick to the face.

Lucifer: Please, Adam- I... shit, I don't know what to say... I can blame you for the exterminations all I want, but at the end of the day, it's my fault. All of it. I've made so many mistakes, Adam... and hurting you was the biggest. None of it was your fault, what I did... what Lilith did was wrong. We were so stuck I'm our ideals and our plan that we didn't see the bigger picture. I... I didn't want to hurt you... I really thought we were helping. I wanted to help both of you... but Lilith was focused on herself. Then Eve.

Lucifer ran his thumb over Adam's hands. He smiled at how long his fingers were, even though they looked so different, they were so perfect.

Lucifer: So much has changed since Eden, and... while not all for the best, there have been some good things- I think. I've had a lot of time to thing- a LOT. And I want to make it up to you. I really, really do. And I meant what I said before. You're fucking hot, Adam. Gorgeous. I know you think you're a monster- but I think you're stunning. And fuck Bambi, I don't talk to him, Adam, I'm nit working with him in some scheme, and I hate you think that. That you think everyone is against you, thinking those about you. I want to convince you that you deserve to be loved, that you're still perfect. Please, Adam. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, but please let me try and earn your trust again.

Adam stared down at Lucifer. Everything is screaming at him to run and run far.

What if he leaves? Of course, he'll leave. It'll only be a matter of time. But, staring into Lucifer's eyes, he can't help but see his angel, even though he's so different.

Does he want his angel back or proof that he could be loved?

Adam glanced at the two photos on the bed. Did Lucifer mean what he said? That he looked hot?

Adam: ...O-Okay...

Lucifer smiled widely and kissed Adam's hands: Thank you, Adam. Thank you so much, Adam!

Adam smiled awkwardly as Lucifer beamed up at him. He was like a weird, little ball of sunshine. Or hellfire.

Lucifer: So~... can I keep your photo~?

Adam: W-What?!

Lucifer: You can keep mine!

Adam: ...F-Fine, just... don't show it to anyone, okay?

Lucifer: Oh, darling, I would destroy anyone who dares to try and lay eyes on it~.

Pin Me (To Your Bed)

@beef-brisket

Happy Valentine's Day Everyone! 💖

-

Charlie was so excited to help Angel set up his idea, it was a great way to help people with their body image and self confidence.

Adam was leaning against the wall as he watched the photo shoot area be set up. Angel wanted everyone to do a pin up photo shoot for Valentine's Day to help their self-esteem and feel sexy.

Angel: Hey mister pouty pants, come help me with the outfits.

Adam sighed and made his way over, the clothing rack held many linguire outfits, short shorts, and leather pieces of clothing.

Adam: Angel, I've seen tissues bigger than this thing.

He held up what looked like a G string and Angel laughed.

Angel: Oh relax! And it's all in fun big guy, besides if you wore something sexy who's to say short, pale, and hunky won't be all over you.~

Adam flushed, he knew it was a bad idea to tell Angel about his feelings for Lucifer. But as long as the short King doesn't hear he guessed it was fine.

Adam: Shut up.

Speaking of Lucifer, he was just done hanging the lights when he floated down smiling at the pair.

Lucifer: Those are umm.... Interesting outfits Angel.

Angel: Aren't they?~ You're dressing up too aren't ya short King?

Lucifer coughed into his fist: W-Well, maybe. I have an image to maintain I can't wear anything too scandalous. You understand.

Adam tried and failed to not picture Lucifer only wearing that G string that would barely cover his dick.

Angel smirked: Oh yeah of course.~ I'll make it all very tasteful for everyone, all within a comfort zone they like. But how about you show a little skin? Like right here.~

He pointed to his stomach area and Lucifer felt warm, he looked at Adam who was looking at him maybe zoned out. Would he like that?

Lucifer: Y-yeah I guess that's fine.

[willouwood]

God dang-it Grian where the hell are we?!

[tagarilaghost]

I SWEAR CELEBI'S THINGY IS COMING SOON BUT I REALLY WANTED TO POST THIS ALRIGHT

yeaah... future trio got me too...

and Darkrai is there too, because of course he is.

hey look i drew a cute Drifloon :D

...ignore the rest

whatever started at Darkrai doodles ended in brainrot of future trio + darkrai and I'm blaming @scribz-ag24 for this

[broke-on-books]

😍😍😍

[outeremissary]

Poll about creating characters for a game really has me thinking about my methods because while I don't usually situate a character in the world/create a full backstory beforehand I feel like I need such a strong sense of who a character is, how they behave, and at least the skeleton of why they behave like that that I usually get bored and feel like I'm playing some flat nothing when I don't have that. I guess that isn't the same as having a fully rigid concept, especially since I'm happy to change things radically in conversation with a game when it's going well, but it's still enough of a distinct Guy Who Already Exists In My Brain I couldn't call it a loose concept. And usually when things go well for my looser concept characters and I develop them during a playthrough I just hit a point partway through where it's like... cool! I have completed the concept for this character now, I can stop playing and relocate them to a Real Story. They almost never feel like they fit right until they're in something where they're starting from that state, haha. I'm like this with tabletop stuff as well. I'm not always the ten page backstory guy but if I'm not at least coming in with some needlessly complex portrait of personality the character is not going to stick for more than a oneshot. Just doesn't interest me to play! I don't feel like I'm seeing through their eyes yet. Can't get in the right zone mentally. I think that's what it's really about for me- a loose concept is rarely immersive, and without that immersion I just struggle to feel like the actions are coming from the character instead of me and come together into a cohesive story about the character (rather than one about me pushing buttons).

[living-history-lesson]

Vent in tags idfk